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lesbian-deadpool · 1 year

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The Staple of Christmas

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Words: 1,036

Warnings: Fluff, grumpy Nat, usage of axe

Request: Nope.

Summary: The tree goes up on the 1st. Not ‘ifs’, ‘ands’ or ‘buts’ about it.

A/N: I know it’s not the 1st, but here it is anyway.

Ko-Fi

Commissions

(Not my pics)

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The sky was as white as paper, showing off the winter season, even though snow had not graced your presence yet. -Soon though, if the weather reports had anything to say about it- And you were up early, driving across the upstate roads of New York, with a moody red-head by your side.

Natasha hadn't said a word to you since entering the car, not even thanking you when you had grabbed her favourite festive drink from the drive-through to warm her up in the cold morning. No. She didn't speak until you passed the third sign, showing your nearing destination.

'Carl's Chop Your Own Tree Farm'

'Five Miles'

"I can't believe you woke me up so early just to get a fucking Christmas tree," she grumbled, glaring at you with her side eye. Finishing off the last dregs of her drink, eyeing yours that sat in the cup holder between you.

Smiling at how well you knew the woman, you reached over, grabbing around the lip of the paper cup. But instead of drinking from it, you passed it off to the red-head, knowing that she would need warming up more than you when you stepped out into the cold morning in a few short minutes.

"Tis' the season, babe. Don't want all the good trees to get taken, do we?"

"It's too early in the month to even get a tree."

You had the same "argument" every year. Natasha would complain and make excuses while you stuck to your guns, winning out in the end. Which you expected it to only be because she couldn't bear to destroy your excitement, nor the tradition that had been with your family since before you could remember.

"It's the first, and you know what that means: Christmas tree day."

Natasha let out a soft groan, turning towards the passenger side window just as you pulled into the Christmas tree farm.

You knew she didn't truly feel as grumpy as she seemed, with how much she loved you, even if you dragged her out of bed at the butt-crack of dawn. Which is why you smiled towards the red-head, unbuckling yourself, moving to exit the car, as you spoke, "C'mon. You know how much you love to see me using an axe."

Her eyes snapped open with the sound of your door shutting. Green eyes followed you as you rounded the car to grab said axe from the boot.

That was all the instigation she needed before she jumped out of the vehicle herself, with what was once your warm beverage pulled to her chest.

"Shut up." Natasha glared when she spotted your smug look as you came towards her, throwing your arm around her shoulders, leading her to the entrance of the farm.

"But I didn't even say anything."

With a soft nudge against your ribs, she replied, "You didn't have to."

You were right.

Natasha did love the way you used an axe, letting her watch from feet away as your arms flexed with every swing.

But still... she didn't appreciate how smug you were about it.

With a bright smile, you turned towards her, panting with the tall tree now laying on the ground, only for the woman to roll her eyes and shake her head good-naturedly, trying to push away the smile pulling against her lips.

"You ready to head home and get this thing decorated?" you asked, gesturing to the fallen tree.

Smiling at you sweetly, Natasha responded, "You bet ya'."

You had complied with Natasha's wishes to wait until nightfall to decorate the tree with festive colours and turn lights.

Lit candles were the only light that doused the room, the warm glow setting the perfect atmosphere.

You remember when we got this?" Natasha asked from the place beside you, intently peering at the decoration hanging upon her fingertips, pulled up to her face.

It was an old-fashioned miniature rocking horse, wooden throughout, with two googly eyes where they normally would be.

"Remember it?" you chuckled, "I almost lost a finger for it when Yelena stuck those eyes on it... man, your sister is scary when someone tries to stop her jokes."

"I still don't know where she pulled that knife from." She shook her head, placing the ornament upon one of the full branches.

"Oh, you don't know? I distinctly remember you being the one to give her her Christmas present early, which was a custom knife holster."

Natasha blinked, shaking her head as she turned back to the boy full of decorations.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course, you don't." You smiled.

The red-head yelped when you hoisted her into the air, directing her to the very top of the tree, watching as she placed the star upon it.

You excitedly scooped up the remote once you set her down.

"You ready to turn the lights on?"

"You do the honours."

At her consent, sparkling white lights made the tree glow. Shining against the decorations.

Liho, who had been evaluating you and his human mother the whole time, from his designated chair. Sat up with intrigue, staring at the lights, plotting their murder behind his blown golden eyes.

With your arm around her shoulder, you pulled Natasha down with you to flop onto the comfortable sofa, pulling her into your side.

"I think we did well with the tree this year."

"Yeah, maybe next year I can have a bit more sleep before I'm forced to grab one."

"Maybe next year we could have a bauble that says 'Baby's First Christmas'," you countered, pointedly not looking at the woman when her attention was brought to you, jaw dropped in shock. Instead, you continued to peer at the tree.

"You want to have a baby with me?"

At that, you turned to look down at her lovingly. "I want everything with you."

Overcome with love for you, her hands rose, holding your cheeks between her palms, pulling you into a passionate kiss.

"I want everything with you, too," she mumbled against your lips.

"Then let's have everything together, baby."

And with that, you pulled Natasha into one of the many kisses you would continue to share that night.

---

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SFW Taglist:

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#original work #original fanfiction #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff #marvel #MCU

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manyfandommeta · 3 months

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moragposting

Thoughts on Morag Ladair, my personal Xenoblorbo~ I've wanted to do one of these for a while and I'm playing the game again so let's go!

What can we learn about her from her first appearance in Gormott?

Dughall: Special inquisitor Morag! To what do we owe this extreme pleasure? Had we but heard of your grace's visit, we could have prepared a suitable...

Morag: I don't stand on ceremony, consul. I'd rather you just did your job.

And there we have it, her first sentence. You know, she really could just demand all sorts of tricked out shit being that she is Special Inquisitor and the Emperor's older sister, but she doesn't! She's not doing it for the status or the clout. She wants the job done and she wants it done well. She gives little weight to formalities, or possibly even convention.

It's likely she already has had previous encounters with Dughall, and is aware that he would be the type of person to try to butter her up. He's shown to be ambitious and not want to "rot" in this "backwater."

She also seems to imagine that Dughall was already searching for the Aegis before she arrived. When he bites his fingernails after hearing Brighid mention the Aegis, Morag coolly responds "Is there a problem, Dughall?"

Morag: Now, you have captured a driver from Torna. I am going to speak with her.

Dughall: What? Why-

Morag: Dughall. I don't remember asking for your opinion.

Savage! She may not count on social formalities, but she has no trepidation at all about using her rank to remind subordinates of ther place.

Then we have the scene with Mia.

Morag: So you are the Torna ruffian. I must say you look a little different from your poster.

Nia: A LITTLE different? Whoever drew that should be the one in jail!

Morag: (chuckle) Yes, I would be angry, too.

Nia: You can drop the friendly act.

So, I tend to forget that Morag can be socially astute, remembering the Argentum Monkfish kitchen heart-to-heart, but this scene shows that she can also be the one buttering people up. There are no animal-faced people in Xenoblade 2, so she likely was already aware that Nia couldn't actually look like her poster. She tries to pull a "good cop" routine to get on Nia's good graces, but Nia can see through it pretty quickly and her loyalty wins out.

Morag: The Driver boy and his Blade?

Nia: Rex and Pyra?

Morag: Well, that was easy.

I'm sure she was prepared to grill Nia for much longer, but she lets it slip out and Morag is happy enough about it. If anything she's downright smug about it. This ominous shot hides her eyes and shows half her face in shadow.

It's actually somewhat reminiscent of her portrait.

#morag ladair #xenoblade chronicles 2 #xenoblade 2 #xc2 #morag xc2 #morag character analysis #morag ladair character analysis #xc2 meta #xenoblade chronicles 2 meta

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josnhoes · 2 years

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I just wanted to say I LOVE YOUR HADES SELF AWARE AU!!! I would love to know what would happen after your drabble- AKA: how good would the house of hades treat their new guest? Specially considering how important they percieve them to be?

The house of hades is in an uproar. Now that you are here with them they had to put their best foot forward. Both Olympus and The House of hades have dedicated wings untouched by any aside for cleaning designed to be your homes when you finally joined the gods.

Hades is smug for so long because you chose *his* home, *his* son as your favored, and you accepted his hospitality. Though you have to do your best to keep people on track at first. Everyone wants to stop and stare or throw themselves at you begging for a smidgen of your endless love.

You are worshiped, doted on, and denied nothing no matter how trivial the request. Though it was a bit of a fight to convince people to call you by name rather then a title like The First God or Your Grace. But you are seen as all powerful, yet filled with mercy and kindness.

There is a hidden whisper amoung all the house as to why you seemed so much weaker now. A theory that after the Titans spawned into existence they locked you away, and freeing yourself from such a powerful prison to come to the house had used all of your power so your body was recovering. Much like Nyx had to do when she saved the prince's life. So now everyone is very protective. Zagreus has gone from doing runs often to only when you push, as he wants to be your gaurd first and foremost.

Thanatos has yet to approach feeling a strange emotion he can't place at the idea of being rejected by you for the nature of his power. Surely you wouldn't rebuke him for being death right? That emotion he is having he can't place, is fear but he refuses to accept that.

Nyx bounces between worshiping and mothering you.

Hypnos takes it upon himself to tuck you in every time you go to sleep using his powers to give you the best of sleep. No he doesn't care you are an adult a God older then even chaos, this is how he shows his appreciation.

Hades buys or provides you with anything you ask, what he can't get he actually reaches out to his brothers about.

Persephone has buckled down on her gardening trying to find or create produce that she can give you to appease any cravings you may have.

Achilles doesn't approach he waits for you to speak to him first. It's not out of arrogance but respect. You are higher then the gods he'd be a fool to risk insulting you. He scarcely believes you are real he'd heard tales but he thought you a myth. Treat him kindly and he may begin to approach you.

They aren't part of the main house but Asterius and Thesus both come to worship. Well the bull does anyway, Theseus comes to ask you to give him your blessing so he may call upon you in battle. If you refuse well he'll have to win your approval first then!

#hades #hades supergiant #hades game

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chidoroki · 1 year

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I hava had a idea of fic some time ago, and i want to share it with you since you like both Ray and Isabella and their relationship. Wll i already spoke about it with other tumblr but you seems to really love Isabella so i want to speak about it with you too =))

It starts after the evasion. When Isabella faces Peter, she is still promoted at the Grandpa's place BUT she has to have a child to replace Ray. A Child that she has to raise to be a perfect premium child to replace the lost premium child. Peter also tells her that Ray is her son (she already know but she is a good actor).

Now for the child. Either it's a boy/girl who will be the new premium, either it's both a boy and a girl, the boy to be the next premium and the girl to be the futur perfect mama. The worst? The children will know. They will not be raised in a farm but in the headquarters.

Isaballa still manages to win over the sisters, in the same way that she has in her one-shot. The sisters also feel a little bad for her because…well their children have been took away from them at birth, they didn't raised them themself. Isabella will have to raise their children to be killed (and to continue the circle if it's the twins thing) even if they learns that she has already did it with Ray. (Bonus, a girl from the farm, that Isabella recommanded as sister helps her and is very protective of her, because you know, she understands.)

Now for the attacks on the headquarters by the kids, Peter still do the proposition to Isabella: give her her freedom and a life in the humans world. He says that she'll be able to take the child(ren) with her, of course. Of course, since premium farms will be destroyed, he can give their freedom to the mamas and to Isabella's kids, right? It's not like if they will be useful in his new farm system, right? That's the best way to assure that they will support him (well in his eyes)

Either she must leave Ray to them to be killed, either Peter says "by children I also mean Ray, of course" because he thinks that giving her freedom + all her kids will assure her support, that force her to abandon her first child could push her to betray him (hey, he's not wrong). And after all, the premium farms will be abolished, so a child more or less, it will not change much. If she helps him, he can give her this rebellious kid that Ray is.

Of course, Isabella, while loving her own children, doesn't want to abandon the ones she raised. No sisters or mamas want to abandons the kids (and their own children who are still alive) now that there are a "chance" to be free. A chance to start a rebellion.

Now for the next thing, i see two possibilities

Isabella dies. Like in the manga. Everything is the same, except she apologizes to Ray and tells him "take care of you sibling(s)" and Ray doesn't understand first (and thinks it's about the rest on the grace field kids). He only learns the truth by Sienna and Matilda (+ the former Grace Field girl who became a sister) after been arrived in the human world, and…well it's a shock. He doesn't feel replaced. No. He feels sick because of what Peter forced his mother to do AGAIN and because of she must have lived. (this asshole is lucky to be dead, he says) he is torn, because that's his blood sibling(s), but he has to find Emma. The former Grace Field sister proposes to babysit them while he search Emma, he can be with them, takes them with him, but if he has to go away, she can watch them. Ray will ferocely love them. and will sing the lubally every nights for them while they're babies and then toddlers (he's their favorite and he is very smug about it toward the other grace field children). And he will NEVER speaks badly about Isabella with them.

Isabella survives. She is just severely wounded. But it was not a lethal wound and a doctor from the Ratri clan has helped to band this wound. But still it will take some time to heal. She has to rest for a while. Ray still learns the truth in the human world. He is still shocked and outraged by what Peter has done. He still devasted because Emma is not her. But his mother is severely wounded; and his sibling(s)…He doesn't want to leavr them. Not now that everything is.... He's finally convinced to search Emma but he will visit very often, for sure. And if he lives with them, it's for the child(ren), of course. (nobody believe him)

Yaayy big fanfic idea let’s gooo!!

Okay, first off, the idea of Isabella having another kid never sat well with me and I promise this is no jab against you. It's just that back when s2ep11 aired lots of people believe she was shown to have another kid during the ending slideshow and it is the one thing I will deny with every fiber of my being. There’s no way that woman was her and I will literally not change my mind about it.

HOWEVER, while I think Isabella wouldn’t have another kid by her own free will due to her past and own personal feelings towards Leslie, Ray & the other kids she raised, I will concede and say that if she truly did have another, it would be because she was forced to do so, if only to show she’s still of use to the farm and to keep herself alive since we all know how greatly she values her own survival.

It would be so interesting to see how she would react if Peter told her about Ray being her actual son. Yeah she already knows, but I wanna see the act she puts on in front of him to feign ignorance. Would she pretend to get real emotional and break down in tears? Or be completely baffled and speechless? I’d love to watch that performance of hers. No doubt Peter would fall for it hook, line and sinker.

Ohhh imagine if she did have a girl. That kid would be so pretty. But ahh, if Isabella knew she had a girl she’d be so scared for it knowing fully well what kind of future awaits the child once it reaches twelve. I dunno how well the kid will do being raised in headquarters though? The whole point of the orphanage lifestyle the system puts all the children through is so that they can grow up healthy with rich emotions. The child certainly won’t get the exercise or love it needs being stuck inside headquarters, especially if it knows the truth of the world they were born into.

Of course Isabella would still win the other sisters over. No one defeats the queen. I can see how Matilda & the others could sympathize with Isabella. I mean, they were surprised already once Isabella handed them the goodbye note from Ray but once the sisters learned their own kids were still alive, they did experience a range of emotions. But oh my god, I didn’t even think of the possibility of having twins! I wonder if that’s ever happened? It must have over the many years the farm system was in place, we probably just dunno any set of twins personally. (Oh but wait, they all get pregnant via artificial insemination, so I dunno if that affects the chances of it or not? My medical knowledge is nonexistent.)

Regardless, Isabella would 100% be protective of any of her actual kids. This is clear as day as she already sacrificed herself for Emma and they’re not even blood related. Ah, damn.. I just thought of the same ch177 scenario only the demon targeted Ray instead and Isabella jumped in to his life. Oh boy, that would definitely make me sob uncontrollably.

Peter would say anything even remotely assuring in order to get Isabella on his side. He can flaunt a twisted idea of freedom all he wants but she’s gonna see through his schemes no matter what. Naturally, she would only accept the offer in order to use her new position of power against him.

I’ll admit I was confused about the whole “new farm system,” but that’s because it was Peter’s idea and I don’t think about him much at all. But yeeaah that’s right, he did plan to discontinue the usual system and replace it with the style that Lambda uses.. that's terrifying. He would definitely want Iabella’s kids (real & those raised) for such a facility since she has a knack for preparing high grade merch. Of course Isabella would fight back against that plan because no one would want their kid to undergo such experiments. Well, she did send Norman there but that was way back when she didn’t nearly have as much power as she does now as Grandma. Also wasn't exactly her choice.

Oof, the idea of her having to sacrifice Ray in order to save so many others.. aahh I dunno what she would do! No mother should ever have to choose between their own kids. Oh, Isabella would probably offer herself up instead. Surely she’s worth more to the farm compared to Ray or a bunch of other kids. Either that or to start a rebellion that Isabella can no doubt pull off with great success.

Ah, Isabella’s death.. my least favorite thing to happen in the manga. But okay, I LOVE that idea of how Ray would react to learning about a potential sibling. Not feeling replaced but so angry at the farm for putting his mother through so much more pain and suffering.. oh that’s an idea I can get behind. Ray has always hated the farm, but he labeled Isabella as the enemy while at Grace Field because she was the closest option and the literal reason behind his own pain. Post-escape is when his feelings (& everyone else’s) of Isabella changed, as they learned more about the world and how it works, which is why they were all able to forgive her, since she was a victim to the system just as they were.

Having to choose between searching for Emma or looking after his sibling, my poor Ray wants to help everyone so much aww. Again, such a hard choice. To go after the girl you literally owe your entire life to or look after your young, sibling he's actually related to? Ohh but of course he would sing them the lullaby! No questions asked! Ahh I wish we had the chance to hear him sing it once more during the story. I know many RE fics have him sing it while Emma is in her coma after GP and I adore that idea with all my heart. The other moment I personally wish it happened was during ch177 as Isabella was on her death bed. I forget if I had mentioned this during that ch review or somewhere else, but having him sing it to her during her last moments would’ve been so powerful. We know Isabella hummed it to herself to keep herself strong, so having her hear Ray do the same while he’s in tears and finally accepting her as his mother.. ow, my poor heart would’ve been in shambles.

Pfftt, smug Ray is one of my favorite things. He would totally rub it in everyone’s faces that his siblings like him best! We know Norman is Sherry’s favorite as Emma is to Phil, but Ray doesn’t really have that one kid who always goes to him, ya know? Sure Chris and Jemima have their moments with him later on, but there isn’t one kid who clearly labels Ray as their favorite. And that is a shame because hello? He is best boy, what’s wrong with everyone else?? Hahaa.. it’s okay, Ray’s still my favorite.

Ah, Isabella alive and well.. the best thing to come out of the second season. That’s really all I wanted in life, for her and Ray to make up and bond like a normal mother and son would. I know many people think he still holds a grudge against her and he would only tolerate her at best, but it would be a work in progress! I’m not saying they would be all lovey dovey at first, I’m sure it’s gonna take some time for them to get over their own pain, but eventually they would be on great terms. (I just wanna see them chill out and sing the lullaby together, that’s all!)

No doubt that even while recovering, Isabella would help Ray & the others in any way possibly to search for Emma. Hell, they might even find her sooner with Isabella’s insight. That may be just me giving her too much credit, but surely the chess master could formulate some decent ideas on where the kids could look. Isabella would definitely not give up on Emma and this would be a big step on her road to redemption (even though I always say her redemption began as soon as she admitted defeat when the kids first escaped).

Once again, thank you very much for sharing all your thoughts and listening to mine!

#a wild ask appeared #the promised neverland

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chosenjuanwrites · 1 year

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Zeroes and Ones

He feels her before he ever sees her. The delicate incision in his mind, the scalpel of a practiced surgeon. He can sense her in his head, how the programs delve deep into the dark corners, attempting to take anything not nailed to the ground. He can see his bank account information pulled to the forefront and he begins to grin. Firewall after firewall, security verification after security verification, it all comes tumbling down. Until all those zeros in his bank account are brought to bear under the eyes of tonight’s stranger.

Her disappointment is almost tangible. All those zeros are alone. They lack the valuing grace of someone different from themselves. He can see her now. She has amber eyes that twinkle with secret mischief, but even the smug aura that she emanated could not hide her second hand embarrassment. He walks away from the bar, drink in hand, equipped with a knowing smile. She returns it. They share a secret together now, valued in the zeros and ones of their lives.

“If you wanted a drink,” said the man as the ice in his cup bounced. “You could have just asked.”

The woman moves her dark red hair aside, her head slowly shaking. “You don’t have a single cent to your name. I’m surprised you even have a drink in your hand.”

The man’s grin grows wider. It's boyish, reserved for teachers and sheriffs alike. “I have good credit.”

“Really? I doubt that.”

He points to his head. “You’ve already been in here. Check for yourself.”

Her amber eyes begin a subtle glow. The pathways have been made now. No more tangling with cheap security parameters as passwords fit like puzzle pieces into the man’s accounts. She sees a section titled Barney’s Bar and sees a humble ten dollar debt within his account. Intrigue begins to set in her. This man is a bum, that’s what the numbers say and numbers are far more truthful than anyone she’s ever met. Yet the man walked with a certain kind of confidence that spoke of some inner richness. There was wealth in him, somewhere.

She gave him her award winning smile, reserved for politicians who had just the right amount of alcohol in them. “Buy me a drink then.”

“Aw come on. I deserve a please at least. Don’t you think so?”

“Please,” she said, the word powdered with sugar.

They sat on wooden stools, a terrible fashion choice amongst the peeling chrome that seemed to cover the entire bar. The woman ordered a rum and coke; the man continued to sip on his scotch. As the ashy taste settled on his tongue and slow rock music reached its crescendo, he looked at her and said, “Is this your usual line of work?”

“I see it as more of a hobby.”

“Hmm. A bit strange though isn’t it?”

“Not as strange as being broke.”

The man chuckled. “Being poor ain’t a crime. Some people even see it as saintly. Can’t say the same about your hobby.”

‘Mmm.” She shrugged as she played with the umbrella in her drink. “This city has stolen more from me than I’ll get in a thousand lifetimes. It owes me more than just a drink.”

“What’s your name?”

She looks into his dull gray eyes. “You really think I’ll tell you that? Next you’ll ask for my birthday.”

“How old are you?”

“You’re not very smart,” she said as she sipped her coke. “I guess I should have figured that part out. But if you must know, I’m a 90 year old Russian witch and my name is Alina. Praise the red army and nice to meet you.”

Her words dripped sarcasm.

“Huh. You don’t look a day past 40.”

She almost chokes on her drink. “A charmer! With skills like that, you should be some corpo in a sky tower.”

“Not a life for old Jeffery, thank you very much. I knew a pencil pusher once. Jumped off the forty fourth floor on main one day when his software got punctured like paper and he got black listed by Yamato. Don’t blame him. He wasn’t cut out for a job outside boring office meetings that could be emails.”

“And you are?”

Jeff smiled at her and for the first time Alina saw in him a different man. The kind that played between the black and red of chance. Who in any moment would find himself eaten by the gods of probability. She looked at his worn down hoodie. Maybe Lady Luck had denounced him already. But he didn’t care, that was obvious now. As she saw him drink the scotch, she saw a man who lost it all and was willing to pick up the pieces again. It scared her. How could anyone survive the annihilation of those magic numbers, sanctified by the steel churches that ruled the world with fists of green and gold?

“I suppose I am,” he said as if saying the sky was blue.

It continued like that for months. Each and every day they met at the same time. They talked about it all together, the horrendous bar music becoming the anthem of childhood dreams and missed opportunities. He learned about how she was supposed to be a dancer, the classy kind with a tutu and a cultured audience. She learned how he was a construction grunt working on high rise buildings that would outlive him ten times over. On an especially drunk night they talked about the insecurities that crept like shadows in the crevices of their mind.

He learned about how her dancing dream was shattered with the gavel of motherly expectations. How when she said she didn’t want to dance anymore, her mother had gone berserk with an ax. The whole experience cost her an arm and it took months working as a waitress at a sketchy bar to buy the robotic one that held her drink.

She learned construction was as harrowing on the mind as it was on the body. When Jeff helped construct those steel towers, he was reminded of a stability he would never have. His foundation was not metal and concrete, it was ramen dinners and freezing showers. But he was lucky. When he couldn’t pay his landlord, the old man died of a stroke. When his electric bill was due, a corporate takeover postponed bills for two months. There was even a time when a ceiling collapsed on him, killing his friend Pedro, but leaving him intact and caked with sawdust.

They grew together, the way two trees tend to intertwine their roots over time. The highlights of their days became the two hours where they spoke to each other over shit music and even shittier drinks. Alina at any time could have searched him up, her artificial eyes were more than just for show after all, but she couldn’t do it. The mystery around this man, peeled back one story at a time, was more human than any police or government report could ever be. At times she would check his bank account, wondering if the zeros had finally gained a friend. Mostly out of curiosity than malice.

They never seemed to. Until a cold Friday evening.

The zeros were introduced to a single digit. A single 1.

Alina had never seen so much money in her life. She could take it all away of course. A couple clicks, not even. A single one could do it if she activated her automated worm program. She paced back and forth in her apartment, eyeing the clock get closer and closer to her bar time with Jeff. And she realized something that confused her, sending her spiraling into self reflection.

She was happy for him.

Alina sat on the stool that might as well have her name on it. She arrived five minutes earlier than usual. She was running over the things she would say in her mind from the congratulations to the what nows. Time continued onward and with it doubt began to seep into the cracks of her psyche, drumming up expensive airplane trips and beaches far away from her. Ten minutes became twenty and twenty became forty. The rum and coke had never tasted worse.

The answer was obvious. He had run away with the money. It was the reasonable thing to do. But somewhere, past the calculations that had guided her through countless successful heists, she felt that could not be true. It was not right. It was not him. She could take the money now if she really wanted to, but as she looked at those zeros and ones, she realized something. Money like that comes with dangerous zeroes, the kind in gun barrels wielded by those who want the money more than you. She got up from her chair and knew what she had to do.

Alina went to Jeff's apartment complex, something only known to her in myth. It was the background of many of his stories, usually where through ingenuity he got free cable or managed to hack into a VR headset he found in the trash. Here in the rain that dripped down her small nose, it felt less like a home and more a dreary temple. She walked inside, through the hallways and through the sounds of people arguing or having sex behind the walls. She knew the number in her mind. It was 287 and that number was far more important in that moment than all the money in the world.

She found it, the magic number plastered on the door. She heard noises behind it. At first she thought Jeff must have invited friends over, celebration with bros and too much alcohol. She began to feel jealous and stupid, the wet clothes sticking to her skin a reminder of her foolishness. Until the noise behind the door got louder and became a scream. The sound was new and unique to her, but unmistakably Jeff.

Adrenaline began to course through her, agitating her prosthetic arm with phantom pains. There was no time for what was real or wasn’t. She knew that now and with that realization, she kicked down the door in one swift movement. The door revealed a bloodied Jeff surrounded by eight men in yokai masks that smiled at her with plastic grins. Adrenaline mixed with anger into an explosive cocktail that spurred her into motion.

Like a gunslinger of old she pulled out her pistol and shot two of the men through the heart, courtesy of her spite and onboard aiming system. She barrel rolled under a metal table and knocked it down as the remaining goons retaliated with sub machine gun fire. The bullets missed her and ricocheted into knock off china cups and plates, the pieces falling onto her red hair. With a single blink of her eyes, she activated her pistol’s camera sequence.

She gained a third eye, no meditation on a mountain required. Suddenly she could see where the men were through the laser sight on her pistol and aimed accordingly. Three men died, fatal shots to the brain from the barely see able pistol behind the table. The remaining three concentrated their fire and shot the pistol out of her hand. It slid to Jefferey's left side, where he could only hopelessly watch the thread of this battle begin to unravel.

Alina cursed under her breath.

“I had to cook so many shitty pancakes for this.”

She touched her prosthetic arm and activated her unlock protocol. The arm became lifeless and with a hard tug that made stars appear in her eyes, she ripped it off. A mess of blood and wires fell onto the ground beside her. She then pressed the secret button on the lower arm and three numbers appeared on its UI. Zero. Zero. Five. She threw it over the table, all the way to the remaining three men. They began to laugh.

“The woman threw her arm!” one said with a giggle.

The other picked it up. “Hahaha! Maybe I’ll use it to jack-”

Their lives ended with the explosion, turning them into a fine red pile of guts and bone. The blast sent Jeffery and his chair to the side, spurring a scream from his mouth as glass scraped his cheek. Alina sprinted towards him, purse thrown to the wayside and tears streaming down her honey colored eyes. She immediately began to untie him from the chair and Jefferey gladly embraced the safety of her bosom.

“What happened?” she asked. “You didn’t show up to the bar and I got worried and I thought you left and-”

Jeff grinned, the act letting out a concoction of blood and drool out of his mouth. “I won big. Too big. Too many times. They thought I was cheating. I wasn’t. Never do.” He shrugged and winced in pain. “I won fair and square. I left while I was still ahead and they didn’t like that. They kept pestering me to play one more time, to see how far my luck could go. I said no. They sent those guys after me. I was going to go to the bar and tell you I finally had some good zeros. I was thinking we could go to Mexico. Eat that Tex Mex stuff you’re always on about. Maybe a pina colada on the beach. Something fruity for sure. Then this happened.”

She held him tighter.

“Whoa there!” he said. “A lot of things hurt right now. Let’s not waste it all on medical bills.”

“Shut up. Just, shut up.”

Mexico had never seen an uglier year. Constant rain and dreary clouds.

But as they held each other in bed, they wouldn’t have it any other way.

#short story #cyberpunk #sci fi #science fiction #writing #creative writing #amwriting #future #science fiction short stories #writers on tumblr

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strangelysamantha · 3 years

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hey, i have a jj maybank request! fem!reader, possible angst!

so basically, y/n is a pogue and gets along with the other pogues (john b, pope, sarah, kiara & cleo) except for jj. y/n is always bright, a total sweetheart and bubbly and jj…hates it.

john b recently opens up a surf board shop on that stranded island that they’re on?? and he leaves y/n and jj alone to polish some boards hoping that they’d get along. jj complains about every little thing y/n does and starts calling her names. she gets really upset and storms out the shop to clear her head. she goes by the water for a swim but a dangerous tide picks her up and jj notices and saves her?? hopefully this makes sense!

the deep end ☆

jj maybank x fem!reader.

warnings: mentions of drowning, jj being an asshole, swearing.

words: 1,674.

summary: jj somehow finds everything you do annoying to the point he criticizes everything you do. john b thinks of a plan that will ensure his two friends will befriend each other. it was working at first, until it wasn’t.

request? yes!

a/n: y’all have such good ideas what the?! thank you for the request! if you enjoyed please like and comment. this is angst with fluff at the end. <3 BTW i am from missouri and have never surfed so i hope i got the polishing of the surfboards correct. :)

my masterlist

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john b always had a plan, well usually he did. if two of his friends were fighting, he would always find a way to get them to get along. he knew that stranding kiara and sarah on a boat together in the middle of nowhere would force them to fix their friendship. so, with that knowledge, he knew that he could do the same thing with jj and you.

you were always nice to jj, he just seemed to get annoyed with you all the time. you didn’t know what you had done, if you had even done something. he just always felt the need to critique you. it became harder and harder everyday to ignore him.

since washing up on the abandoned island, john b was ecstatic for his brand new start. unsurprisingly to anyone, his first idea for creating a new civilization would be a surf shack. he started building it right away. you would occasionally help, but he was determined to do it on his own so he would always send you away.

“okay! john b what would you like my help with? i can do anything you need. just let me know.” you smile brightly at john b, while he stared at you. “listen, i love you. but, i don’t need your help at the moment. you should talk to everyone else.” you frown at his words, “fine. but you better get me the minute you need assistance.” he nodded. “will do.” and with that, you left joining the others.

jj was talking to cleo before silencing upon your arrival. “hey everyone!” you smile at the group in front of you. “hey! how’s john b?” kiara asked. “i think he is good, he’s actually pretty much done.” you play with the bracelet on your wrist. kiara nods, “that’s great.” pope smiles, “statistically speaking, we can’t ensure that his shack will be entirely safe as he built it all on his own.” you stare at pope. “true… we’ll let’s hope it doesn’t collapse on him.” pope smiled at you, glad you listened to his random fact.

jj groaned. “awe, how sweet pope!! you found a girl who wasn’t disgusted by your weird and useless knowledge.” you gasp in shock, “jj! shut up you are so rude.” jj laughs, “it’s just a joke, why do you always have to be so offended?” you glare at jj. “jj it’s not funny, you’re just a dick.” pope sighs. “it’s okay, don’t worry.” you frown in popes direction. you quietly pull away from the group. you walk to an area of sand, plopping yourself down. that’s when john b approached you.

“hey, remember when i told you i would come get you when i needed help?” john b smiled at you. “yes! do you need my help?” you tilt your head to the side, waiting. he nods. “i need you to wax up some of the boards i made.” you nod. “okay! sure.” he walked you to his shack, helping you set up. you began waxing the board, paying attention to the direction and the amount of wax you were applying. john b waits a minute watching you, before he decides to leave.

after a minute, you see jj approaching the shack with john b who held a smug smile on his lips. you shake your head, confused. “friends.” he looked between you and jj. jj held an unamused look on his face. “as my close friends, you will wax these boards for me. you can’t stop until you guys fix whatever feud is going on between the two of you.” john b stands his ground. jj scoffs, “we don’t have a feud.” you nod your head in agreement. “jj is right, his hatred is definitely one sided... it is not a feud.” you laugh softly seeing jj send a glare your way. “yeah okay. whatever guys. just fix it, and if you even try and leave, i’ll send cleo after both of you.” your eyebrows lift in shock. you mutter a quick okay, returning your attention to the board.

jj stares at you, watching you apply the wax. he couldn’t help but get upset. everything you did just made him annoyed. he grabbed the wax, working on the board right by yours. silence falls over the two of you. it’s not awkward or weird, it actually feels quite normal. until jj interrupted it so he could judge you.

“youre doing it wrong. i mean come on.” you stare at jj, “jj please just focus on your own board.” you shake your head, continuing to polish the surfboard. he glares at you. “whatever. just keep doing what you are doing, and then john b or i will fix it after you.” his attention turned back to his board. you rolled your eyes. “i will, thank you.” he breathes in, inhaling the waxy scent. “you are so annoying you know that?” you ignore jj’s words, focusing on the board. he continues, “i mean everything you do. everything you say, it pisses me off.” you nod slightly. “you done?”

“no, actually i’m not.” you bite your lip, fixating on the wax that is spreading along the smooth surface. jj stops waxing the surfboard. you look up to see he is already staring at you. “you know, you act like you are better than us, i mean why do you hang out with us anyway?” jj waits but continues when he realizes you won’t reply. “you are fake, you are so upbeat and bubbly that it’s annoying. you are a double sided two faced bitch who says anything to get in good graces.” you inhale, looking up at him.

“listen jj. we are stranded on this fucking island. TOGETHER. so either drop it and move on, or just shut the fuck up and stay away from me.” you place your hands on your hips, breathing slightly staggered from anger. “everyone speaks so highly of you saying how great you are; but the only jj i’ve met is a total douche. if you hate me so much then just stay the fuck away from me. if you continue you’ll just be wasting your breath and energy anyway.” jj holds back a laugh at your sudden outburst.

“you really think if i had the choice, i would want to be here? especially with you?” jj asked, you already knowing the answer. you stay silent. “exactly. no one can deal with you for that long anyway.” you roll your eyes.

“whatever jj. you win.” you toss the wax to the side, frowning. you don’t turn back to him, you just ignore him. you start to walk towards the beaches seashore. it was getting slightly hot, so you decided to take a dip into the water.

you were salvaging the few moments of freedom you had, before you got john b’s and cleo’s wrath from leaving the scene before mending the friendship with jj. it was practically impossible. what did jj have against you? you tip toed into the water, getting deeper and deeper. you floated at the top of the water; the coolness feeling great on top of your hot skin.

jj truly had the biggest nerve, your mind was overwhelmingly clogged. you felt seaweed scratch against the bottom of your foot, this caused you to jump, your adrenaline levels rising since you thought it was a fish. you try to remain afloat, but the high tide caused the waves to crash right over you repeatedly, being faster and higher than ever. you went above water trying to shout for help, but your mouth was filled, causing no sound to come out. you thrash against the water, kicking to stay afloat. your throat was burning, your legs tired from kicking, and your lungs filled with liquid.

a pair of hands wrap around your stomach, dragging you out the water. you were placed on the warm sand. “shit.” jj stared at you. your head felt light. jj’s hand began pumping your chest, curses falling from his mouth. “come on, just breathe. please.” you cough, the salt water exiting your lungs, and dropping onto your neck. you gasp for air, opening your eyes to be met with jj’s face. you breathe heavily for a minute.

“jj… thank you.” you sit up, pulling him into a tight hug. your hands wrap around his neck, one of them grabbing his hair. his arms held tightly around your waist. his chest was heaving heavily, shaking slightly. “i hate to be so cliché j, but you genuinely saved my life.” he frowns at you. “i almost lost you.”

jj’s confession confused you. “what?” you say softly, your hand combed through his hair. “look. the reason i’m so mean to you, is because i knew that if i was nice to you, my already intense feelings for you would only amplify.” you frown at him. “you’ve had a crush on me this whole time?” jj nodded. you went to talk, but your friends interrupted the moment.

john b rushed to your side, kiara and pope swiftly behind him. “what happened!! we were watching from over there.” john b pointed in a direction farther away. “one minute you were swimming… the next you we’re gone!?” you wipe your neck, trying to dry it off. “jj saved my life. i almost drowned.” you frown, the group in front of you nodded. “im so glad you are okay.” kiara bent down pulling you into a hug. “i’m glad you are safe now too.” pope joined in on the hug; as well as everyone else.

sarah, kiara, and cleo bend down, reaching for your hands. they help you up, dragging you to your feet. they walk you away from the crowd, bombarding you with questions. “so when you were drowning what did it feel like??” you turn around watching jj, you smile slightly before turning to them. “oh get ready for the amount of details i’m going to give you guys.”

possibly a part two…??? not sure yet :) <3 also!! i’m proofreading this tomorrow since i’m not entirely sure if it has errors or not! ily!!

#jj maybank obx #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader angst #fiction #writing #jj maybank x fem!reader #jj maybank fanfic #jj maybank angst #jj maybank imagine #outerbanks fanfics #outer banks imagines #outer banks story #outer banks angst #jj maybank one shot #jj maybank outer banks #jj maybank obx fanfic #jj x fem!reader

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adorerdraco · 4 years

Text

It’s Only Quidditch ✧ Draco x Slytherin!Reader

Request: can i please request you and draco being in slytherin and dating for a while and you two are on the quidditch team with him so maybe you two are in a match together but you get hurt and he gets worried and has to win the game and visits you after and maybe even wrecks the person who hurt you hehe just fluff and angst

AU AROUND 6TH YEAR NO VOLDY

Warnings: angry!draco, vengeful!draco, VIOLENCE, kinda graphic details like blood and injuries, lil bit of angst

Words: 3.9K (love making these long for no reason)

A/N: ANGRY DRACO IS SO HOT IM SORRY WOW BUT I HOPE THIS IS GOOOOD PLEASE ENJOY MY MADE UP CHARACTER AND MY SUPER LONG QUIDDITCH GAME THAT CONFUSED ME AFTER A WHILE OF TRYING TO WRITE LMAO and i made gif :)

November had begun and with it came the new season of quidditch at Hogwarts along with very poor weather and over-bundling nerves. Tensions had always gotten high around this time of the year amongst the teams and all animosity between the house’s respective players was on the forefront as the competition was building. It was like clockwork every year; captain’s starting strenuous training schedules, begging Snape to help book the stadium even if it was already occupied, spying on other teams to figure out their strengths and weaknesses. Not to mention the arguments that would happen regularly in between the first couple of games when you and your teammates would be accused of cheating or using dangerous and illegal moves. Which did happen to be true most of the time.

It was safe to say that it was the most eventful time of the year, and as suffocating as it sometimes got - you looked forward to it every time the new term started. It was in quidditch that you found yourself feeling the freest in, zipping around the stadium in a flash of green with the wind blowing through your hair and crisp autumn air biting at your cheeks. But most notably, it was in quidditch that you met Draco Malfoy and had quickly evolved from teammates to friends, to him now being your boyfriend.

You made Slytherin’s team your second year as a Chaser, a shiny new broom being given to you on the first day of scheduled training when Lucius Malfoy had made a generous donation that came along with a new platinum blond seeker. With the two of you being the latest additions to the teams, your captain, Marcus Flint, had decided to leave the dirty work for the two of you to do in the downtime every one else was able to enjoy. Marcus never changed that as the years went on.

So you and Draco would be sent off to other teams’ practices nearly every other day or week, depending on how secure Flint was feeling, both of you huddling closely together for sometimes hours behind the thick wooden benches as you watched and studied tactics with conversations in between. You would joke around a lot and call him your partner in crime which he would always roll his eyes to and make a snide and playful comment about even if he secretly loved hearing it. And the two of you stayed partners in crime for a while, neither of you ever making any move towards the other besides lingering touches and longing looks, and very rarely, a shy compliment.

It wasn’t until last year when you were hiding behind the bleachers, bored out of your mind watching Ravenclaw have a flawless run through around the stadium when you were graced with the dumbest idea.

“They’re playing good today,” you drawled out, “too good that it’s boring.”

“You reckon they studied so hard and found the key to quidditch?” He snickered as he played around with a pebble on the ground with his wand.

“We should help them out,” you suggested as Draco turned to raise a puzzled eyebrow at you. “Prepare them for the unexpected, nothing too crazy.”

You took out your wand from your pocket and pointed it towards one of their Beaters that was sitting idly by on their broom, a faint “confundus” leaving your lips that caused the broom to jerk swiftly to the side and nearly topple over its rider.

“You’re a genius,” Draco laughed quietly, repositioning himself so that he was right beside you with his wand directed out into the field. He spotted one of the bludgers flying towards the same Beater and instead of colliding with the bat, he used a charm to direct it into the back of their broom and then doubled it back around to try and hit one of the passing by Chaser’s that moved at the very last minute.

You were a giggling mess, gripping tightly onto Draco’s arm as you watched everyone begin to look around wildly for the wild bludger with panicked expressions. What either of you didn’t realize in the middle of your joyed hysterics and Draco’s smugness for causing the angelic sounds, was that the bludger was flying idly still in front of the bleacher’s as his wand was still trained on it without moving it around anymore, his focus completely gone and concentrated on you.

It wasn’t until you heard someone yell out a, “Is that Malfoy and Y/L/N back there again?!” That made you get up with a sudden jolt, grabbing onto your accomplice’s hand as you ran towards the set of stairs that descended out of the stands. All you heard was distant angry insults and threats quickly fading out of ear-shot while you ran, laughing uncontrollably alongside Draco with his hand still tightly gripped in yours.

When you finally reached the entrance of the empty courtyard of the castle with flustered cheeks and wheezing chuckles, you looked down at your joined hands at the same time he did and after a few seconds of realization and lingering adrenaline, you quickly moved into each other with a yearning kiss that changed everything from that day forward.

Draco stood beside you while you sat on a bench outside the locker room, your head resting lazily on the side of his leg while his fingers carded soothingly through your hair. Marcus was pacing in front of you, using his broom as a walking and pointing stick whenever he wanted to add any calculated words to his very hostile pep-talks that left everyone feeling more irritated and stressed.

Today was the last game of the season and the most important, it was the game that ended the season with a shimmering Inter-House Quidditch Cup and it just so happened to be against Gryffindor, making the stakes much higher than they already were. The matches against Gryffindor were by far, the most dangerous as they weren't afraid to play roughly either if push came to shove. The determination to beat each other and to win was critical on both sides and the day always ended with some sort of injuries.

“I don’t care how dirty we have to play today,” Flint fumed to the team, “I don’t care how many fouls we get, as long as we win.”

“Relax, Flint,” you sighed deeply. “We have the best players on our team and we’ve been working our arses off all season, we’ll be fine.”

“Still, I want to see blood out there,” he muttered back, walking towards the entrance of the field as Madam Hooch started calling your team out to start.

You stood up with a huff, Draco frowning when he noticed how tense you looked when your eyes worriedly met his.

“All right, love?”

“I'm just nervous,” you shrug, “I don’t want to mess up.”

The silver-haired boy moved to stand in front of you, placing two strong hands on either side of your arms to stand you in place so that he would be the only thing your wandering eyes were able to focus on.

“You are the best Chaser that Slytherin has ever had, no, that Hogwarts has ever had and I know for a fact you’re going to do amazing out there,” he cups your face with care, brushing a few stray hairs out of your face as he spoke. “You’ve got this.”

He pressed an encouraging kiss onto your forehead and then your lips, smiling at you supportively before taking your hand and hurriedly walking the two of you out into the field where the match was about to start.

Almost the whole school had shown up in an overcrowded sea of red and gold for Gryffindor. There were red sparks and small fireworks of lions that were charmed to roar when the animal would open its mouth. On one end of the stands, however, was the entire student body of Slytherin that was throwing green and silver ribbons and sparklers from their wands, yelling loudly in support as if their life depended on it. Over the rails, they had thrown down a large poster of a snake that moved around sleekly over large green words that read, “SLYTHERIN FOR THE WIN.”

Rain was lightly drizzling from the grayed dense clouds above, a sharp chill in the air from an approaching winter that always seemed to give the worst weather during the last couple of games of the year. You didn’t mind it since the cold had always felt nice against your sweaty skin during the game and it served like a small revitalizing shock that gave you a surge of energy to push forward with.

Madam Hooch quickly went over the rules, set free the bludgers, and the snitch, forced the two captains, Wood and Flint, to shake hands and by the time she had counted down from three to one - brooms were soared into the sky with such speed it looked like a tornado had formed as she threw the quaffle up into the air.

A roar of cheers erupted from beside you as you got ahold of the quaffle, dashing past your House while you headed straight towards the Gryffindor’s goal post and managed to make the first shot in within the first five minutes of the game putting you at 10-0. You spotted Draco flying around above, smiling down brightly at you with triumph that only fueled your confidence as you darted forward to catch the ball again. You were, just as Draco had said, the best Chaser on the team and in all of the school. You were fast, agile, and smart when it came down to it and you were the reason why your team had easily wracked up 40 points with thirty minutes down in the match. Marcus was always trailing behind you with focus, shoving anyone who tried to get to you or pulling them back by their robes that landed Slytherin a couple of fouls throughout.

You didn’t like to play dirty, but when Katie Bell had rammed into your side either accidentally or on purpose, it knocked the quaffle out of your hands and into one of their other Chaser’s, Rowan Rees, a muscular and tall seventh-year boy that had made the team that same year. With Katie still closely trying to cut you off, you veered sharply into her with your shoulder before breaking away from her and heading towards your goal post where they were trying to shoot.

“ILLEGAL PUSHING FROM Y/L/N, FOUL AGAINST SLYTHERIN!”

You rolled your eyes at the announcer, completely ignoring the boo’s that had filled the air as you whizzed past the other houses even though it was you who got hit first. Just as Rees had raised his arm to score, you flew over him, swooping your arm underneath your broom until you felt the quaffle back in your palm and ripped it from his grasp. The match was becoming more intense by the second, Gryffindor was promptly catching up in points because of the penalties they were awarded from the illegal moves your team was making and it left you feeling more pressured that it was nearly a tie now, Flint reminded you of that every chance he zoomed past you.

Unbeknownst to you, Draco was watching you cautiously from across the field most of the game when he noticed how close everyone was trying to get to you. You didn’t see the way you were almost tugged back multiple times or were missed by inches when someone was about to push you. Or how the Beaters were deliberately directing the bludgers in your direction. You also didn’t see how irked you had made Rees with your constant scoring and with the sporadic few times you had cut him off or almost bumped into him - but your boyfriend did, and he was much more focused on your safety now than the Golden Snitch he or Potter hasn’t spotted yet. Instead of searching for it, he was purposefully maneuvering himself around in front of the other Chasers to throw them off their focal point towards you so that you would have a clearer path to fly through.

He watched as you pulled your broom upwards to try and twist away from the area but Rees had reached out and pulled at your ankle, sending you out of your seat as the quaffle fell while you tried to rebalance yourself. That was all the encouragement the blond needed when he hurtled down into the mess, kicking at the back of Rees’ broom and sending him quickly spinning on a dive before he could try and move any further.

“FOUL AGAINST REES AND MALFOY FOR KICKING AND TUGGING!”

“MALFOY!” Flint roared as he flew past, “Potter’s spotted the snitch! This isn’t your place, get out of here, NOW!”

And when he looked up, sure enough, Harry was going around desperately with an arm outstretched towards the small glint of gold that was moving too fast.

“Go, I’m fine!” You shouted out to him when you flew back up with the ball back in your arms.

It was like slow motion when he forced himself to leave your surroundings, everything around him was moving fast and intensely with everyone screaming wildly that he couldn’t think straight. In a daze, he haphazardly sped towards Harry but noticed the panicked look on the seeker’s face when he had lost sight of it again which directed his attention right back to you. You were right in front of the Gryffindor goal post, arm stretched over your head and releasing the quaffle with a harsh throw.

“Y/L/N MAKES THE GOAL, TEAMS ARE AT A TIE-”

It wasn’t until the very last minute that everyone, including you, had realized the flash of red that came hurtling into your side at full speed, Rees colliding so loudly with you that it echoed around the stadium in a powerful clang and crack.

Draco watched in horror as you were thrown off your broom, your now unconscious body falling like a rag doll with a speed that sent his stress levels into overdrive. He had never pushed down on his broom so fast, immediately abandoning his spot to bolt towards you even as Marcus was screaming at him to not go.

A few feet above the ground and before you met it, he managed to loop his arm around your waist and heave you onto the front of his broom with a slight struggle as it was now raining hard and clouding his vision. He saw Madam Pomfrey and Mcgonagall rushing into the field, hands holding tightly onto their hats as they worriedly rushed towards the area where your broom had fallen and where Draco was hovering over with you.

“TEAMS ARE TAKING A 10 MINUTE TIME OUT!”

Marcus had flown down towards him, face twisted in fury and annoyance as he approached.

“Is there a reason you’re not being a seeker, today?” He spits, “because I’ve been seeing you do everything but your job.”

“My bloody girlfriend just got knocked out!” Draco seethed at him. “I’m not going back into the game, I’m going with her to the hospital wing.”

“Like hell you are,” Flint scowled, “if you leave, you'll forfeit us the game. If you stay and let Potter catch that Snitch so it’ll be over quicker, I will personally make sure that this is your last year on the team. You’re going to win this for us.”

“Mr. Malfoy!” McGonagall called up to him, waving her arms hastily. “She needs to go to the infirmary, immediately!”

The two Slytherins were staring each other down aggressively as Draco contemplated the threat he was just given. There was nothing more he wanted to do than to throw a hex at Flint and leave with you, but he just swallowed thickly and nodded at him before descending towards the ground and letting you off carefully into the hands of Madam Pomfrey. A surge of fear ran through his body when he finally saw you clearly; a harsh red mark was making its way up to your neck, the corner of your bottom lip had split and doubled in size, there was a small scratch on your cheekbone. It made him feel queasy, but he tore his eyes away from you and hopped back onto his broom while glaring angrily at Marcus and the distant group of huddled Gryffindor’s.

He was blinded in rage when the match resumed and even more enraged when Flint had cheered loudly when the announcer granted Slytherin a penalty for the injury Rees gave you, allowing them basically to get a free score in against Gryffindor. Draco let his eyes wander around for the snitch for the first time that day and he could hear his heart thundering in his eardrums in distress as the rain continued to make his search worse. All he wanted was to get out of the game to check up on you, and then he'd come back to the stadium to throw his fists into Rees’ face with maybe a few hits in on Marcus.

Just as he was losing hope, he saw a flash of gold whiz past him with a loud buzzing that shocked him into alertness. He didn’t care that catching the snitch would win the game, or the cup, or give him all the glory, no - this was his ticket out. He dived towards it with his arm outstretched, hand thrashing around in the wind as he tried to eagerly catch it. In seconds, Harry was right beside him, bumping him with his shoulder to try and throw him off the path but Draco only pushed back harder. There was a flurry of shouting as everyone watched, the announcer was yelling into the mic about the seekers going head-to-head, bludgers were flying past him.

It was pure chaos and urgency, Draco could feel the fluttering of its wings beneath his palm and when Harry pushed into him one more time, he felt the coldness of the Snitch get trapped into his enclosed hand, the vibration of its wings sending a current of relief up his arm that spread throughout his whole body as he soared up into the sky while brandishing it to the schools’ painfully watchful eyes.

“MALFOY HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH, WINNING SLYTHERIN THIS YEAR’S INTER-HOUSE QUIDDITCH CUP!”

Draco hurriedly made his way down to the field where the rest of his house was pooling into, celebrating proudly and calling out for him to praise, but when he landed on the ground and was met with half of the Gryffindor team including Rowan Rees - all his wrath came flooding back into him.

Angelina, another Gryffindor Chaser, had nudged Rowan with her shoulder, pointing towards the Slytherin Prince that was stalking towards them.

“Malfoy,” Rees started bitterly, “sorry about the girlfriend, I was only trying to knock the quaffle out her hands.”

“After she had already thrown it?” He glowered, walking closer up to the boy that was beginning to straighten himself out and flex. “Looked a little personal seeing how she was dragging you through the dust the whole game.”

“Accidents happen, mate,” Rees shrugged, “it’s only quidditch, you won didn’t you? Maybe you should be thanking me for giving you that extra push to win the game.”

A clear line had been crossed and everyone who was listening knew it. But before Rowan could say anything to try and drag himself out of the hole he had just dug himself into, he was being tackled into the ground with Draco above him throwing punches wherever he could land them. There was loud hooting and laughing coming from the Slytherins that gathered around the fight, cheering loudly for their House superior.

Rees was thrashing around on the ground, trying frantically to throw off the extremely infuriated boy that was repeatedly pounding into his face with bloodied and bruised fists. Oliver Wood ran up to the sudden brawl, Fred and George following closely behind him as they all started trying to rip the fighting boy’s apart from each other. Oliver had gotten Draco off briefly, allowing Rees to try and get a hit in but it was dodged at the last second as the blond quickly leaped up to his feet. The fight immediately ended when a muddy shoe had collided with Rowan’s jaw and Draco stepped back satisfied with the damage he had done, roughly shrugging off the grip Oliver still had on his arm.

“It’s only quidditch, right?” He spat venomously from above the Gryffindor who was holding his now battered face in pain. “That’ll teach you from putting your hands on a woman too.”

“Mr. Malfoy!” Madam Hooch bellowed as she broke through the crowd in a frenzy. “50 points from Slytherin, go wait outside Professor Snape’s office for further punishment, go right now!”

Draco did go, and instantly, but he didn’t go down to the dungeons to hear about the lengthy detention that he knew he was going to get and the scolding for being reckless and stupid. His feet carried his sore body up the many stairs that led to the hospital wing, his pace picking up swiftly when he saw the large double doors of the infirmary ajar and he was able to hear a faint and familiar voice speaking indistinctly.

He threw open the doors, walking straight in as if he owned the place and ignored Pomfrey’s requests for him to leave as he made a beeline towards your hunched figure that was facing away from him.

“I need to see her,” he said to the nurse quickly when she stopped in front of him. “I’ll leave soon, please.”

At the sound of his voice, you hastily turned around in your spot to face him, a yelp escaping your lips for moving too quickly through your injuries. Pomfrey stepped out of the way with a sigh allowing Draco to jog over to you.

“I’m going to kill him,” he scowled when he reached you. You were wearing a sling, a deep purple and yellowed bruise quickly set itself over the side of your arm and the same cuts he saw from earlier were still scattered over your features. His fingers ghosted over your skin and he let out a deep shaky exhale of anxiousness before moving his thumb up to graze your cheek tenderly.

“What happened to you?” You asked quietly in shock when you noticed his mud-splattered clothes and tattered fists.

“Long story,” he drawled. “Don’t worry about me, are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” you muttered with a slight shrug that made you whimper lightly. “Did we win?”

He nodded quietly, his eyes still scanning sadly over your face with a frown. “I swear, I’m going to kill him.”

“Only if I can help,” you sniggered faintly, trying to make light of the situation and succeeding in doing so when you saw he had cracked a small smile. With his hand still on your cheek, he bent down to press a firm kiss on the top of your hair and then warmly on the side of your mouth that wasn’t bleeding.

“I’ll just let you finish him off then,” he mulled amusingly when he pulled away.

“Finish him off?”

The doors of the hospital wing were thrown open again, a sea of red flowing inside as they carried in a pummeled Rowan with a busted lip, bloodied nose, black eye, and deeply bruised jaw. You looked briskly between Rees and Draco, both of them staring daggers at each other and it rapidly clicked in your mind why your boyfriend had looked like he just walked through a battlefield in your absence.

“Oh.”

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queenfinehair · 2 years

Text

The thorn in your side

Chapter seven

Warnings: None, pretty tame still, a little emotional I guess 💁‍♀️

Song mood and This one

Disclaimer: gif isn't mine but it's linked

"King Harald?" You inquire, walking into the great hall. He had wanted you to come for a visit once cleaned free from the birth. You had changed into a light dress, cloak adorning your shoulders.

"Y/n! Hello." Harald is cheery as he greets you, walking out from a group of men he'd been talking to. When he sees the cloak he tenses before shaking it off. "Thank you for coming, how did it go?"

"Very well. The foal is healthy and drinking milk last I checked. I cannot stay long-"

"I'm happy it went well. I was wondering," he again interrupts your speech, "have you given thought to what I asked you? About becoming my wife and queen?"

In fact, that's all that has been on your mind since Harald asked. You wanted to keep him happy, but by keeping him happy you knew he'd ask you to give up your job and passion. Torn was your heart as you had to actually choose between the two.

"I have been thinking, my King," you begin carefully, "as much as the thought appeals to me, I still am not sure. What of my job?"

"There will be no need for you to carry it on. I have found a boy who is willing to take over." Harald gestures to a young man with green eyes and strawberry blonde hair, "Meet Birger. I have told him about what he is to do should you accept."

Tears spring into your eyes as you see your fate should you agree to marry Harald. He was a proud man and that pride was shining ever brighter tonight as he introduces you to your replacement. Taking Birger's hand he kisses yours softly and greets you warmly. He seemed eager and pleased about the proposition, willing to start as soon as he could.

"My King..." your mind was made up, "I would love to bu-"

"Then it is settled." Harald eyes you firmly before a Cheshire cat smile graces his lips. Turning to the men he holds his mug up, "I am to be married, men!" Cheers and raised cups follow the announcement and you all but cry at the noise. You have to breathe deeply to control your oncoming emotions, struggling to hide them.

Harald sets his mug down before he takes you into his arms for a tight squeeze. "I shall make you happy. You will never want for anything." He promises softly into your ear.

Save perhaps my life's passion. You think with despair. Your arms wrap around Harald and you limply hug him back, wondering how this has come to be. Surely if you spoke to him in private he would understand, he had to.

"I also wish for you to rid yourself of that cloak. I will purchase you a new and far better one in its place." His voice is rougher with this passing statement and all you can do is nod, your brain fogging up. "Of course, my King..."

Halfdan walks into the hall amid the cheers and as he makes his way to Harald he catches your eye. You barely realize that Halfdan has even approached until Harald places a hand on your hip, pulling you close to his side.

"What's this all about then?" Halfdan asks as he looks around the hall, grabbing the jug of ale and filling a mug up. "Y/n has agreed to marry me." Harald says with a smug and winning smile as if to tell Halfdan "back off now. She's mine."

Halfdan merely pats Harald's shoulder and with a lying grin, congratulates his older brother, never looking you in the eyes. He quickly walks away to join the crowd, slugging his drink down. He wipes his mouth before he fills up again and drains that one down as well.

You do notice that bit and can only think of how he had been during the horse's birth. You would miss that life, miss it so terribly that it already pained your chest, but if this is what fate had in store for you, it was better to let things be.

"My King-"

"Y/n," Harald says and places a finger to your lips, "you shall be my queen. You no longer need to address me by title. Just Harald from now on." His smile is wide as he looks at you but all you can muster is a weak and forced grin back.

"Yes, Harald. Might I call it an early evening? If I am to give up my... job, I shall need to rest so I can teach the boy the ropes of it all tomorrow." You move away from Harald's touch and place a delicate kiss to his cheek.

"Of course." Is all he has to say as he watches you leave with stooped shoulders. You would talk to him tomorrow when he was alone, right now just wasn't the time and you didn't think he'd appreciate tears in front of his guests. You wipe your eyes as you walk into the gelid darkness, closing your cloak up. You would also have to do something about this garment but couldn't find yourself able to just give it away. Or worse yet, give it back to Halfdan.

You walk past the stables and hear Baldur's hoof kicking at the door to his stall. With a shaking breath do you ignore his impatient knocking and run to your home. Flinging the door open you then slam it shut. Taking the cloak off you hold it in your hands playing with the fabric. The blue in color almost black in the dark, only a sliver of moonlight hitting it, is reminiscent of your mood. Only then do you place it over your face, inhale and let it out in a strangled scream.

It's a couple of hours later and you're still awake, placing items you wish to take with you to move in with Harald. In a separate, smaller, pile, you place items that you can give away or sell. The cloak sits in that pile and it breaks your heart to give it away. It wasn't the cloak itself that broke you, but the surprise of it. No note attached, no fancy wrapping, just the item placed on your doorstep one chilly morning.

Your mind was made up, you'd be alone with Halfdan just this last time, to give it back. There's a sharp knock at your door that startles you into the present and after picking up a candle do you answer it.

Halfdan stands before you, swaying back and forth before he leans in the doorway. The ale is strong on his breath before he even speaks to you. His eyes are glazed over while you both just look at one another, neither wanting to speak.

"So," he finally slurs, "you're going to do it?" There's a longing and hurt in his eyes, but you can't be sure if it's all there or if it's because drink has taken over him. He clears his throat, shaking hair from his eyes as is custom to the man and leans closer in, "why?"

Subtle. So subtle but his his state you can almost forgive it. "I..." you begin, wavering as you turn your head to hide your chin quivering. You swallow hard, shake your own head and firmly look back, "why does it matter to you? Halfdan, we had one night together. A simple and meaningless, or so I thought, fling. Why are you here?"

Halfdan bites his bottom lip as he stands tall, "Was it? Was it that meaningless? You could have turned away, you could have simply stayed and watched. I wouldn't have given mind either way. You didn't though-"

"You beckoned me! The only reason I came is because Harald failed to make me do the same." Your emotions betray your trust and soon you're angrily wiping away at your eyes. "I only came into your house because I needed to get off."

He laughs dryly and states, "and you think it'll get better? I know my brother and believe me, he's into breeding women. As long as you bear his children, he'll think that is what satisfies you."

"You do realize this is your brother you're speaking of, right?" You ask incredulously, throwing your hands up.

"Well aware of that fact, thank you. My brother means a lot to me, but I also know one, tiny fact about you." His forehead comes to rest on yours, his breath heavy as he places a hand on your neck.

"I'm enthralled, what can you possibly know about me?" Your eyes close, a tear falling from them.

"You won't be happy without those goddamn horses. What will you do?" His thumb strokes the skin of your neck as you hear him swallow.

"Please.... please leave, Halfdan." You plead softly, wanting nothing more than to pack up everything you had then and there and escape this town on the back of Baldur. The idea sounded like the sweetest taste of sugar and you half wonder what Harald would do if you skipped town.

"Make me." Is all Halfdan says. It's a challenge, it's a beg for him to stay, but most of all its a longing to tell you more. He isn't thinking straight right now and you have to choose your words carefully.

"Halfdan..." you begin and step back, "I am to be queen. I will show you how to handle Baldur tomorrow and then, once more, I want to see nothing of you. You have to stay away."

With a deep and loud sigh, Halfdan again kisses the top of your head, "you know where I live. Any day, any time, you'll know where to find me. I'll see you tomorrow, I'm keeping that as a promise." With that, he leaves you alone yet again. As you close the door you look towards your things, your mind churning.

Tags: @naaladareia , @inmyfxith

#harald x reader #harald finehair x reader #halfdan x reader #halfdan the black x reader #vikings fandom #vikings fic #fanfiction #my writing #my fic #scheduled post

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gallifrey1sburning · 3 years

Note

Hi 👋 a prompt you can take or leave: Draco is very unsure whether he is being flirted with or this is an extension of their office rivalry that he doesn't understand (or the reverse!) Ty!

@skeptiquex and @ihavesomeideawhatimdoinghere, I read both of your prompts back to back, and they worked really well together, so I squished them into one. I hope you enjoy! Thank you both for sending me things, and thanks to @mxmaneater for the fast beta ❤️

—

The Tally

“One more for me!” Harry crowed, scratching a new tally mark next to his name on the chalkboard behind Draco’s head. “Better luck next time, Malfoy.” The board had a partner behind Harry’s desk, and the tallies recorded on one would reflect on the other, but Harry took great joy in invading Draco’s space and rubbing his victories in his face at every opportunity. Not that Draco was any better. It was part of the fun.

“Please, that one hardly counted,” Draco objected reflexively. “You only caught him because you tripped, for Merlin’s sake. Hardly an impressive arrest.”

Harry shrugged and grinned, perching on the edge of Draco’s desk. “An arrest is an arrest.”

“Whatever,” Draco grumped. He and Harry had been playing this game for over a year now, and the margin was always extremely close. Harry was just barely ahead, at the moment, but Draco would catch up to him soon. He and Parvati had a potions ring bust coming up that Harry and Weasley weren’t involved in. Once that was done, he’d have overtaken him, and the smug expression currently gracing his colleague’s face would disappear along with his lead.

“So, any big weekend plans?” Harry asked, ignoring Draco’s pout.

Draco dropped the expression when it failed to produce the desired reaction. “Nothing too exciting. Yourself?”

“I’ve got tickets for the Puddlemere game on Saturday, actually. Ron was supposed to come, but something came up, so I’m trying to find someone else who might want to go. It would be a shame for the ticket to go to waste.” Harry was biting his lip and looking hopeful, and for just a moment, Draco thought— but no. If he’d wanted to ask, he would have asked, he told himself firmly.

Taking care to keep his expression light, Draco pondered for a moment before saying. “I think McCutcheon is a Puddlemere fan. Maybe try him?”

“Oh, right.” Draco almost thought that Harry looked disappointed for a moment, but on second glance, his expression was clear and friendly. “Thanks for the tip. I’ll see if he’s free. Have a great weekend, Draco. Parvati.” He knocked his knuckles against the desktop twice before straightening and walking off, hands in pockets. Draco watched him go, sighing as he rounded the corner. It really was a pleasure watching him walk away.

He was brought back to reality by his partner smacking him in the back of the head with a stack of paperwork. “Ow! What the fuck, Patil?”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she hissed, looking even more exasperated with him than usual. “Every time he’s over here, you spend the rest of the day mooning, and he finally asks you out, and you say NO?!”

“I do not moon!” He did moon, and he knew it, but he wasn’t about to say so. He still had his pride. “And he didn’t ask me out, either.”

“You’re joking, right?”

“He didn’t! He just said he had an available ticket! He very clearly had an opening to invite me, if he wanted to, and he very clearly didn’t.” There had been a number of moments like this, in recent months, and Parvati kept insisting that Harry was flirting with Draco. For his part, Draco kept insisting that she mind her own business, because she obviously could not read Harry Potter at all if she thought he was interested in Draco.

“You are an absolute moron.” Parvati shook her head in disbelief, but let it drop.

—

They made the bust on Tuesday. Monday had been a rush of preparations and contingency planning and final logistics, and the stakeout had lasted all day, but in the end, it had been worth it—they’d brought in six players in one sweep and were confident that at least one of them would give up the rest in exchange for sentencing leniency. Draco had dropped into bed exhausted but elated.

He was still riding high when he sauntered into Harry and Weasley’s office on Wednesday. He leaned ostentatiously over Harry’s desk, stretching almost directly over his perpetually-tousled head to grab a piece of chalk and carefully add six perfectly straight tally marks to his own side of the board, giving him the lead by three.

“And that’s how you do it,” he gloated as he straightened, smirking smugly down at Harry. “Suck it, Potter.”

Across the office, he heard Weasley groan and mumble something that sounded suspiciously like ‘he wishes’ under his breath. Harry looked a bit pink, but still smirked right back up at Draco, so it was probably just the heat. “Played that one close to the chest, didn’t you? But don’t worry, I’ve got something in the pipeline. I’ll be back on top before you know it.”

In Draco’s peripheral vision, he saw Weasley bang his head against his desk. “I’m getting tea,” he announced, stalking out of the office. Draco raised an eyebrow at Potter, who shrugged.

Now that he was here, Draco didn’t quite want to leave yet, so he searched for something else to talk about. “How was the game?” he finally asked.

“Huh? Oh, the Quidditch game. Yeah, I didn’t end up going, actually.” Harry rubbed the back of his neck, not making eye contact. “Wasn’t really in the mood.”

Draco wrinkled his brow, not really sure what to make of that, but then Harry asked a question about the potions bust, and Draco forgot about it, instead focusing on a dramatic retelling of his glorious victory.

—

Harry’s next arrest came after a particularly brutal double homicide. It was all anyone was talking about when he arrived that morning, but, despite Draco’s expectations (and perhaps anticipation), Harry didn’t appear at his desk to brag about it. He was feeling a bit anxious by the time he finally saw him passing by his door in the late afternoon, and the feeling only grew when he did. Harry had bags under his eyes, and his usually confident posture was slumped. He didn’t look as though he had slept. He also didn’t look like he was going to stop.

“Hey,” Draco said, rising from his desk to catch him before he passed by completely. “Haven’t seen you today.” Are you okay?, he didn’t say, but he thought it was probably audible in his tone anyway.

“Oh. Hey, Draco.” Harry looked up at him, seeming a little lost. He looked hollow behind his eyes, and Draco could feel his eyebrows furrowing in concern. “Yeah, I’ve been…” he trailed off and glanced past Draco, into his office, to where the chalkboard hung prominently on the back wall. He seemed to curl even further in on himself. “I don’t want to count this one, okay?” he said, finally. “It doesn’t really feel like a victory.”

“Yeah, of course,” Draco said immediately, and he suddenly felt completely helpless. “Can I—” he hesitated, and then put a tentative hand on Harry’s slumped shoulder. “Do you need anything?”

He was half sure that Harry would pull away from his touch, but he didn’t. If anything, he seemed almost to relax into it. “I’m okay,” he said, and it wasn’t convincing, but Draco didn’t want to push it. “Thanks, though.” He reached up and gripped Draco’s hand where it lay on his shoulder, so briefly that his hand was gone before Draco could even fully register it, and then stepped back, continuing on his way.

Draco stood and stared at the chalkboard for a while when he got back to his desk. Then, he picked up his eraser and carefully removed one tally from his own side.

—

Their next bust, they were on together. A small Neo-Death Eater group that the department had been keeping an eye on, but who hadn’t done much of anything until now, had suddenly decided to make a grand statement by threatening a large-scale attack on Diagon Alley if their (entirely insane) demands weren’t met. Needless to say, the Ministry was not interested in negotiation, and the whole Auror force had been called out en masse.

Somehow, Harry and Weasley had ended up working in tandem with Draco and Parvati, and now Harry and Draco were back to back in a dead-end alley, dueling a pair that seemed to be the last desperate stragglers, while Parvati watched the street, ready to block anyone who might try to interfere, and Weasley stood to the side, clutching his ribs and sweating but still managing to hold a fairly steady shield charm. There was an unconscious, Incarcerous-ed body on the ground near him; his Stunner’s aim had been true, but the assailant had gotten off one last hex before it hit. He wasn’t in imminent danger—Draco had been hit by the same spell before, and it was extremely painful but didn’t cause any lasting damage once reversed—and although that would be easy enough to do, they didn’t have a wand to spare at the moment.

Harry and Draco worked together like they’d been born to it, and if their respective partnerships hadn’t been working so well for so long, Draco might have considered it a waste that they weren’t paired together. Spells flew around them like fireworks, and they cast and dodged and shielded and attacked without speaking, without pause, until, suddenly, it was over.

“Ron!” Harry cried as soon as his wand dropped, but Parvati was already by his side, countering the spell, and Ron’s body relaxed almost immediately.

“I’m fine, mate. Great work.”

Harry breathed out a sigh of relief and then turned to Draco, chest still heaving with exertion. Draco couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face even as he tried to catch his breath. He could feel sweat tracking down his face, his neck, his back, and he was streaked with dirt and—he suspected—blood; but they had won, and no one had died, and he was almost high on the rush of it. “I’m not sure who those count for,” he said, half laughing. “It happened too fast. Did you catch who took them down?”

Harry was grinning now, too, the buzzing energy of their win almost visibly coursing through him. He beamed at Draco, and he looked so fucking beautiful, even though he was just as dirty and dishevled as Draco was, that Draco couldn’t help but glance, just for a second, at those lips that he’d surreptitiously observed for so long as they stretched wide with joy. When he snapped his eyes back up, however, it was clear that Harry had seen, because the smile had morphed into something that Draco couldn’t put a name to, and his eyes were searching Draco’s for something. And then—

“Fuck it,” he heard Harry say, and then there were hands on either side of his head and he was being—quite thoroughly—kissed, right there in the alley. He melted into it immediately, pulling Harry closer to himself almost instinctively. There was an iron tang of blood as their tongues met, and Draco wasn’t sure whose it was, but he didn’t particularly care. He didn’t care about much of anything, right now, besides Harry’s hands, and Harry’s lips, and the press of Harry’s chest and hips against his own, and whether Harry might want to reenact this moment later but somewhere with a bed and a lot less clothes.

“I TOLD YOU!” Parvati yelled triumphantly in the background.

“Fucking finally.” Ron sounded both amused and exasperated.

Draco ignored them in favor of sliding his hands into Harry’s birdsnest of hair, pulling lightly and making him groan into the kiss. He supposed this one counted as a win for both of them.

Also on AO3

#drarry #drarry fic #drarry fanfic #draco malfoy #harry potter #my writing

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beifongsss · 4 years

Text

threatened by the blind bandit [zuko]

Pairing: Zuko x Beifong!reader (also an earthbender)

Summary: requested by anon. “ hii 👉👈 could we get a nervous, flustered!zuko going to sokka for advice on how to get you to like him back?”. This also takes place during season three sometime during the Ember Island Players. I also made the reader Toph’s older sister because I thought it’d be interesting 🙊

i also kind of changed it a little too much so i hope you still enjoy it anon! <3 sorry :(

The first time Prince Zuko had seen you had been the time that Azula had been tracking you and the rest of the Gaang with her mysterious machine. You had gotten there along with your sister, bursting in to help Aang fight against the royal siblings. As Toph ran off to help fight against the princess, you had cornered the prince, a slightly crazed look present in your eyes due to your lack of sleep. He had exchanged glances with his uncle before Iroh stepped forward, his hands raised in surrender.

“We mean you and the avatar no harm,” Iroh had said softly. You had tilted your head to the side, glancing at him before making eye contact with Zuko. His eyes had widened as they met yours, a faint blush spreading up his neck that was only visible to Iroh. Your gaze had hardened as you looked at the prince, backing up slightly before speaking.

“If it were just you, I’d believe your words. But since he’s here, I’m not taking any chances,” you said sharply. Turning around, you waved your hand behind you, causing the ground underneath them to become uneven and send them stumbling against the wall behind them. With another wave, pieces of rock flew towards them, chaining their hands to the wall.

Zuko’s eyes didn’t leave your form as you jumped into battle, fighting his sister with a grace that admittedly made his stomach flip. He was so caught up in watching you that he didn’t realize that Iroh had freed himself until he spoke. “Maybe you should spend less time looking at the earthbender and more time trying to free yourself.”

Zuko scowled as he ripped his gaze from you, settling on shooting his uncle a glare. “Free me.”

Iroh chuckled at his nephew’s words but did as he said. Zuko wasted no time in going after Azula, trying not to get distracted by the way you made bending seem so easy. You didn’t notice him, too busy making sure that Sokka was safe from any stray fire or falling rocks.

Eventually, you became the last thing on his mind. Once Azula had attacked Iroh, his well-being became the only thing that mattered. When he screamed at the Gaang to leave him alone, he felt your gaze on him and he hesitantly glanced up, his vision blurred by the tears welling up in his eyes. You took a hesitant step forward, only stopping when Zuko flinched and looked away, his tears finally spilling.

“We have to go,” Toph exclaimed, grabbing onto your hand and pulling you towards Appa. “Now!”

You allowed your sister to pull you away, throwing one last glance behind you. You felt your heart clench at the sight of Zuko hugging Iroh. You climbed onto Appa and sat next to Sokka in silence as you flew away.

You didn’t see the prince again until Azula and her friends infiltrated Ba Sing Se. You and Katara had stayed behind to plan the invasion into the Fire Nation on the Day of Black Sun while Aang, Sokka, and Toph each embarked on their respective journeys.

“You’ve got company,” a Dai Li agent called out, tossing someone down next to you. You gasped quietly, turning away from the tunnel you had been creating for you and Katara to escape through.

“Zuko?” you questioned, exchanging an uncertain glance with Katara.

Katara stepped forward, an angry expression on her face. “Why did they throw you in here? Oh, wait, let me guess. It's a trap. So that when Aang shows up to help me, you can finally have him in your little Fire Nation clutches!”

The prince stayed silent as Katara continued her ranting. “You're a terrible person! You know that? Always following us! Hunting the Avatar! Trying to capture the world's last hope for peace! But what do you care? You're the Fire Lord's son. Spreading war and violence and hatred is in your blood!”

You ran in front of Katara, placing a hand on her arm as you noticed Zuko’s expression. “Katara maybe you should calm down.”

She looked at you incredulously before yanking her arm away from you. You flinched out of instinct, stumbling back and landing on your butt next to Zuko, who immediately helped you up and stood in front of you. “Don’t.”

Noticing the way her arm was raised, and how it had implied that she was going to strike you, Katara took a step back. She brought her arm back down to her side, shooting a worried glance at you. She was surprised at the prince’s actions; she had never seen him be that gentle, not even with Iroh. You kept your gaze down, admittedly feeling safe knowing that Zuko was standing in front of you.

“(Y/N),” Katara whispered. “You know I’d never-”

Her voice faded as she noticed Zuko’s fiery glare. Her tone changed as she addressed the prince. “I’m sorry for yelling at you.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Zuko said, his voice gruff and his eyes never leaving you. Katara opened her mouth to speak only to be interrupted by a loud boom coming from the tunnel you had begun earthbending.

“Aang!” you had exclaimed, running over to the avatar. “Where’s Toph?”

“She went to warn King Kuei about Azula. Sokka’s with her,” Aang replied. Your eyes widened before you began running back out through the tunnel.

“(Y/N)! Where are you going?” Katara asked, stumbling after you.

“To help my sister,” you replied fiercely. “And to make sure that Sokka doesn’t get injured!”

Katara tried to go after you only to be stopped by an enormous wall of crystal. Everyone in the catacombs stared after you as you ran away, amazed by what you had just done. Sure, they had known you were a talented earthbender, but this...this was raw power and it had shocked them into silence.

The silence was broken by Zuko, who was still staring wide-eyed at the tunnel you had escaped through. “Wow.”

Everyone else had turned to look at him, causing his cheeks to burn. Remembering his actions from earlier, Katara’s expression changed into a knowing one as she looked at the blushing prince. He avoided her gaze, instead looking at Aang, who’s face held a wide smile, before finally looking at his uncle, who couldn’t stay silent. “Staring at her again? Prince Zuko, if I didn’t know any better I’d say you are very enamored by the earthbender.”

Unfortunately, Zuko’s response was quickly ignored as Azula entered, two Dai Li agents at her side. Zuko got into a defensive position, forcing himself to stop thinking about the beautiful earthbender.

The third time you saw Zuko was when he finally joined the group at the Western Air Temple.

He had received a cold welcome from the group, you and Katara especially. After fleeing from Ba Sing Se, Katara had filled you in on what had happened after you left the catacombs, causing you to feel an ache in your chest for some unknown reason.

Maybe it was because you thought that there was no way Zuko could have been evil, not with the way he had shielded you when you thought Katara was about to strike you. Not with the way he threw himself over Iroh’s unconscious body when Azula has attacked, sobs racking his body. Or maybe, just maybe, it was because a part of you had felt your heart flutter when you noticed the soft way that Zuko had been looking at you in the catacombs.

But he was the prince of the Fire Nation, and you now knew that the Fire Nation could not be trusted. The only reason you were keeping him around was so that he could teach Aang firebending. Other than that, you were ready to throw him off a cliff, especially when you found out he had burned Toph’s feet.

You spent more time with the prince than you expected, especially after finding out that he was the only other bender that had any training in hand-to-hand combat. Before him, Sokka had been your sparring partner, but you were always hesitant to fight him because you were used to using your earthbending as an advantage and you didn’t want to hurt the nonbender. When you weren’t out sparring with Zuko, you spent your time with Sokka, ranting about said prince.

Sokka found the whole situation amusing. He could tell that Zuko had feelings for you. If the blush that coated his face every time you sparred wasn’t enough of an indicator, the way Zuko would stumble and stutter every time you addressed him was more than enough evidence. It also didn’t hurt that Toph could feel his heartbeat speed up whenever you were around him.

The water tribe boy leaned against a pillar as he watched the two of you spar, wincing slightly when you hesitated to strike and were hit with a fireball. Sokka’s lips twitched as you let out a hiss from where you were sitting, cradling your arm to your chest as you inspected the burn. Zuko ran forward, panic clear on his face as he took in the damage he had caused.

“(Y-Y/N), I-I’m so, so s-sorry,” Zuko stuttered out, crouching next to you as he reached for your arm. You glared at him, pulling your arm away from him as you rose to your feet. “I d-didn’t mean t-to.”

You didn’t say anything to him as you stalked away, deciding to find Katara so she could heal the burn. Once you were out of sight, Sokka stepped towards the prince, clapping slowly as Zuko scowled.

“You know, it’s pretty funny to watch you turn into a stuttering mess when you’re around her,” Sokka said, smiling widely. “I can help you with that.”

“Why would I accept any help from you,” Zuko replied rudely, turning to walk away.

“Because I’m her best friend,” came Sokka’s smug reply. “And trust me, if there’s anyone that knows how to deal with her anger, it’s me.”

Zuko paused, thinking over Sokka’s words before turning back around, a defeated look on his face. “Okay. Help me win her over. Please.”

Sokka did end up helping Zuko, to an extent. In return, Zuko had helped Sokka break his father and Suki out of the Boiling Rock. No matter how much the two boys would deny it, breaking in and out of the Boiling Rock had helped them grow closer together, something that annoyed you to no end.

Now, whenever you wanted to talk to Sokka, Zuko was right there next to him. It was like you could no longer avoid the prince no matter what you did.

After Zuko had helped Katara track down her mother’s murderer, she had finally forgiven him, leaving you as the only one who hadn’t welcomed him fully into the group. You did all you could to avoid him once the Gaang had reached Ember Island, spending most of your time with Appa.

“You have to get over it sometime,” Toph’s voice broke through the silence, startling you slightly as you turned to face her.

“What?” you asked, pretending to not know what she was talking about.

Toph remained silent as she stared at you, or at least as she stared at where she thought you were. In reality, she was staring at Appa as you stood off to the side. You tried your best to stifle a laugh.

“Why can’t you see he’s changed? Everyone else has, even the Sugar Queen,” Toph continued, crossing her arms. “Besides, I’m getting real tired of the way his heartbeat gets when you’re around. I swear you’re gonna kill that boy.”

You flushed at your sister’s words, opening your mouth to reply before you were interrupted by Sokka’s screaming.

“Let’s go see the play!”

“Look,” Toph said, beginning to walk away. “Just think about it okay?”

You stayed silent as you followed her, wondering when the hell she had grown up so much.

The play was set to start in a few minutes so you all decided to me your way to your seats. You were about to take a seat next to Toph when she pushed you away before pulling Katara down next to her. “Sorry this seat’s taken.”

You glared at your sister before sitting next to Katara, stiffening up when you looked next to you to see Zuko sitting there. The two of you blushed as you made eye contact.

“Toph’s a genius,” you heard Sokka snicker from behind you, causing you to sink down in your chair. The play began soon after and as far as plays go, this one was absolutely terrible. Hilarious, but terrible. You and Toph were having the time of your life laughing at the way everyone was being portrayed. You had no idea that the Zuko was paying a lot more attention to you than he was to the play.

Intermission came too soon (at least in your opinion) and you found yourself heading to the lobby to buy some fire flakes.

Back near the doors, Zuko was sitting down with his back against the wall and his head buried in his arms. He glanced up when he heard a set of footsteps approach him only to find Toph standing next to him. He put his head back down.

“You’re pathetic,” were the first words to come out of Toph’s mouth, causing Zuko to look up wildly, disbelief and offense visible on his face, not that Toph could see it.

“What?”

“You heard me,” the Beifong girl stated. “I can’t believe you’re over here wallowing in your pity instead of confessing to my sister.”

Zuko opened his mouth to retort but was cut off by Toph. “Don’t deny it! In case you forgot, I can feel your heartbeat and I know that it goes crazy whenever you so much as think about her.”

Zuko’s face burned as he noticed the rest of the Gaang coming back.

“Just man up and tell her how you feel okay fire pants?” Toph spoke again before stomping back inside the theater.

Once everyone was settled back in their seats, the play began once again. After a shockingly accurate portrayal of you and the reveal of Toph as a buff man, the play finally got to when you had been trapped down in the crystal catacombs.

You and Katara shifted uneasily as Actress Katara raised her hand, causing Actor Zuko to step in front of Actress You and stop Actress Katara.

“Don’t you dare lay a hand on her,” Actor Zuko growled.

“What do you care?” Actress Katara replied. “This doesn’t concern you Zuko.”

“Yes it does!”

“Why?”

“Because I love her,” Actor Zuko roared. “Because I love her and I won’t let anyone hurt her.”

You tuned out the play when Actress You also professed her love for Actor Zuko, who then proceeded to kiss Actress You. You could feel Sokka’s stare burning into your head and you sunk low into your chair, turning to glance as Zuko only to find him already looking at you. You swallowed uneasily as you maintained eye contact only to break it when Aang spoke.

“Why are you all silent now?”

Katara glanced at the stage and then at the two of you as subtly as she could, not that you didn’t notice.

“Is it because of the confession?” Aang asked adorably. “It’s not like it’s weird, we already knew that Zuko liked (Y/N/N)!”

You heard Toph and Sokka try to stifle their laughs as you and Zuko sank impossibly low in your seats, flinching when you felt your arm rub against his.

~ It was dark out when you decided it was finally time to talk to Zuko. After searching for him in the house, you noticed flashes of light and you followed them to find Zuko firebending down at the beach.

You observed him for a while before deciding to speak up. “Zuko.”

Zuko flinched and whirled around, losing his footing when he saw you and toppling into the sand. “(Y-Y/N)!”

You smiled softly, offering him a hand. He took it, standing up and coming face-to-face with you.

“W-What are you d-doing out here?” Zuko asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I just thought I should tell you that I’m sorry for being so rude to you and not welcoming you into the group,” you whispered, your eyes never leaving his.

“You don’t h-have to apologize,” Zuko breathed, growing nervous under your soft gaze. “I d-deserved it, after everything I’ve done t-to you.”

“No. I was being unfair to you, even after you proved that you had finally changed,” you retorted, closing your eyes before continuing. “The truth is, I was upset that you had chosen Azula’s side because a part of me...a part of me has feelings for you, and I was angry with myself for letting myself fall for you.”

The silence that followed was deafening and you found yourself regretting your words. What if your sister and Sokka were wrong? What if they were just lying to you? There was no way that they could know how Zuko truly felt abou-

Your racing thoughts were silenced when you felt a pair of lips press against yours. Zuko’s hands trembled as they gripped your waist, pulling you closer to him. You returned the kiss, your hands weaving through his hair and your head spinning as you realized that you were kissing someone that had been considered your enemy for the longest time.

“I left the palace to train Aang,” Zuko said huskily, finally pulling away. His hands didn’t leave your waist. “But I know that I also left because I wanted to see you again and I wanted to prove to you that I wasn’t evil and that having feelings for someone as good as you wasn’t wrong.”

You stared at him before speaking once again. “I never thought you were evil.”

Zuko’s gaze changed to surprised before going back to the soft gaze he had been directing at you. Without saying anything, he pulled you into a hug breathing deeply at your words as a weight lifted off his chest.

“I never did,” you continued, clinging onto him. You stayed like that for a while before Zuko pulled back, staring at you for what felt like an eternity before stealing another kiss from you.

“I’m glad we finally talked,” he mumbled against your lips, causing you to chuckle.

“I can’t believe we have my sister to thank. She basically threatened me into talking to you,” you said, breaking the kiss.

Zuko’s eyes widened before he started laughing. Wrapping an arm around your shoulders, he began to guide you back to the vacation house, pressing a kiss to your temple as he smiled down at you.

“Funny. She threatened me too.”

hiiii i hope this was good i kind of struggled with how i wanted this to play out but i hope you enjoyed!!

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ninhaoma-ya · 2 years

Text

Chapter 1039 — The main attraction

My main attraction right now is towards both Law and Kid, because oh boy, do those boys pack a punch!

I wonder what the chapter title is in Japanese, and if it has the same double meaning of “show/event” and “magnetic attraction “.

Momo, my Momo, might it be Zunesha you hear, either warning for the marines or asking permission to do away with the threat?

The small cloud on top of the skull is boding. Wonder how Luffy is doing?

The crews! The crews!

And I have to say; good for you, Kid, that’s the third lady I’ve seen in your crew! Might be the most progressive of the Supernova’s so far.

I really enjoy the banter. Really, really enjoy it.

On one hand, I can see where Law’s coming from — since your reputation is everything on the seas, it’s not a good look for him if he’s seen as the backup, like Reddit seems to do. If he wants to establish himself as a serious player, he has to be seen as making some proper damage as well.

On the other, it’s really funny that he’s taking Kid’s lines, in a way. At the beginning of the raid, Kid was all “don’t get in my way, I’ll take down Kaido!” and now he goes “Who cares who gets the credit, we’ll just have to take her down.”

And speaking of Big Mom, The Force Of Nature.

Sweet baby bells and whistles, is she one scary lady.

Looks like she’s not only fortifying herself with life, but with some Conqueror’s haki as well.

I wonder what her awakening would look like, or if we’ve already seen it. The soul fruit is one scary power.

She. Is. Scary.

That’s all.

And also, the multiple layers of meaning in “you’ve weighed me down with this” when talking to the guy who saddled you with a tower is just… so, so great.

I really like this sequence. The swift jump into the void, foot a mere dash in the empty air. The cramped panel with Eustass, where you don’t really know if he’s dead or alive, the frame crammed ful of a scream in the background and bolts and nuts are flying everywhere. The cut to the graceful stabbing preparation, once again in stillness and the empty void.

It’s just really nice.

So is Law grounding a much bigger version of the gamma knife with the weirdly growing sword? Looking forward to an analysis from someone who knows something about electricity!

Can’t be nice to be hit with haki-coated fists. No wonder the crew is worried.

Although the blood can’t help.

LOOK AT THAT SMUG LITTLE SHIT-EATING GRIN.

Just look at it.

I love it.

And she still doesn’t think they’ll win. Not with that wide, proud grin on her face.

I do wonder about the future of the yonko, or if the New Era will turn everything upside down. We don’t know if there was a yonko-system before the current ones and so we don’t have a clear passage of power. Can any of the Supernova be called a yonko after this, when none of them defeated a sitting emperor in single combat but through teamwork and collaboration?

Overall, a really good chapter.

I give it a shocked cow and the times they are a-changin’

#one piece #ch 1039 #opspoilers #one piece spoilers #trafalgar law #eustass kidd #kozuki momonosuke #momo #nin reads one piece

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the-scandalorian · 3 years

Text

Tempered Glass: Chapter 6

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader Rating: M (will become explicit) Word Count: 4k Warnings: slow burn, sad feels/angst, canon-typical violence, cursing, sexy thoughts, pining Summary: When Fennec Shand reveals your true identity to the Mandalorian, you do your best to pick up the pieces. Notes: I’m sorry this took me so long!! I rewrote it like six times because I couldn’t get it to feel right. Next chapter should be much faster. Taglist: @bbdoyouloveme @beskarhearts @dincrypt @dunderr @honey-hi @just-me-and-my-obsessions00 @mbpokemonrulez @oloreaa @red-leaders @speakerforthedead0 @spideysimpossiblegirl @theflightytemptressadventure @ubri812 @zoemariefit

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Image from The Art of Star Wars: The Mandalorian

Fuck. Panic coursed through your veins and paralyzed you. Your brain moved infuriatingly slowly as you tried to think of a way to stop the disaster that was unfolding before your eyes.

And yet...despite your fear and despite the fact that this terrifying, high-level bounty hunter had once tracked you, hearing Fennec call you sweetheart made your stomach drop—in a pleasant way, not at all like when Toro had done the same. She was beautiful, strong, mysterious, intimidating. What little you saw of her fighting style confirmed that she was lithe and exacting—catlike in her grace and prowess. A sexy armored bounty hunter.

I have a type.

You shunted that wildly unhelpful train of thought out of your head to refocus on the crisis at hand.

You looked at Mando. “I—”

“What’s she talking about?” he prompted. You couldn’t tell if you were projecting because you felt guilty or if he really did sound a little hurt.

You opened your mouth again to respond, but Fennec beat you to it.

“Oh, you don’t know?” Even in the dark, you could see Fennec’s eyes sparkle in delight as she addressed Mando. “I don’t know how this one stayed off your radar,” she explained. “She was wanted by the Empire for years. Huge bounty... She looks a little different now—check her chest for a scar to make sure, but I’d bet her bounty it’s there.”

Mando had already seen the scar. He knew Fennec was right.

You caught the hungry look on Toro’s face as he drank in everything Fennec was saying. His eyes trailed down your face and landed shamelessly on your chest. You could practically hear the wheels turning in his head as he tried to think up a way to confirm your identity and claim the reward for both you and Fennec. This little fucker.

Fennec looked at you, and you took a step back involuntarily. “You’ve gotten sloppy, baby. There’s been chatter for weeks that you resurfaced on Nevarro. If I hadn’t been pinned down here, I’d have come for you myself.”

Her words felt like ice sliding down your throat and settling in your stomach. You’d figured that news of your sighting would probably get out, but you had hoped against hope that the blue-haired bounty hunter had been taken out before she’d been able to spread the word.

Mando was silent, fists clenched tightly at his sides, visor glued on Fennec. Pulling yourself together, you grabbed his arm and dragged him a safe distance away.

“I was going to tell you. I’m sorry,” you blurted, once you were out of earshot.

“It’s fine,” he replied stiffly, his gaze trained decidedly to your right.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you registered that even though it was just the two of you, his voice retained its icy, detached quality, all the tender familiarity gone.

“No, it’s not. I should have told you sooner. I-I wanted to—believe me—but I didn’t know if I could trust you. You were—you’ve been worried that I might turn you or the kid in, haven’t you? I was worried that you’d do the same to me if you found out. The longer I spent with you, the more I felt like you wouldn’t, but I had to be completely, totally sure. I couldn’t take the risk. You can understand that, right?”

He said nothing.

“Look—I really want to be able to trust you. I want you to be able to trust me. I just didn’t know where to start. It’s not easy for people like us to trust blindly, you know?” You hated that your voice sounded almost pleading.

Still, he said nothing, a blank beskar wall. The comfortable warmth that had developed—slowly, painstakingly—between you two over the past weeks had dissolved in an instant.

“Mando. Talk to me, please.” You reached out for his arm, but he stepped back. He still wouldn’t meet your gaze.

“Not now. Not here.”

“But—”

Your heart sank when he turned abruptly and walked back to the others.

You watched as he grabbed Fennec’s arm roughly, hauling her to her feet, and you trailed behind as he lead your party back down to the foot of the cliff. When you reached the bottom, Mando threw Fennec to the ground.

“Uh oh, looks like two of us have to walk,” Fennec taunted, eyeing the lone bike.

Mando jerked his head, motioning you and Toro to follow him.

“Alright, so what is the plan?” Toro asked Mando.

Reluctantly, you refrained from asking him if he could contribute for once instead of letting Mando do literally all the work; instead, you turned to Mando and supplied, “That dewback isn’t far.”

Mando didn’t look at you. To Toro, he said, “I need you to go find it.”

“And leave you here with my bounty and my ride?” Toro asked incredulously. “Yeah, I don’t think so, Mando. I’ll only go if she comes with me, so I have a guarantee that you won’t leave.” Toro gestured toward you.

You and Mando spoke at the same time: “No.”

“Either she comes, or I don’t go.” Toro was obviously pleased with himself for thinking of this plan, a smirk painted on his face.

You shot him a scathing look before turning to Mando to offer, “I’ll go get it alone.”

You’d love to put some distance between you and Toro, between you and Fennec, and honestly even between you and Mando at the moment.

“Suit yourself,” shrugged Toro. “Less work for me.”

You ignored Toro. “I remember vaguely where it was.” You pointed.

Mando pressed a button on the side of his helmet and scanned the horizon, stopping vaguely where you’d pointed. Finally, he trained his visor on you. He looked from you to Toro to where Fennec was seated and to you again, deliberating. You could tell he didn’t want you to go alone, but he also didn’t want to leave you here with Toro and Fennec. “We’ll go together.”

You nodded, knowing you were in no position to complain. Now that your secret was out, it was evident that both Toro and Fennec would capitalize on your value at the first chance. And, even now, when your dishonesty had been revealed to him, Mando still felt compelled to protect you, his generous heart winning out over whatever malice he felt toward you.

A small part of you resented him for that; it didn’t rub you the right way that he didn’t think you could take care of yourself. A larger part of you knew it was exactly why you liked him so much.

It would be convenient if he were a selfish ass. You could convince yourself you didn’t owe him anything, that you’d done nothing wrong. But no.

This is why it’s easier to be alone.

You felt both angry and guilty, an awful combination that manifested in the urge to hit something—a deep yearning to break Toro’s nose flashed through your mind when you caught the smug expression on his face as he looked from you to Mando. He was enjoying the palpable tension that had materialized between you a little too much.

“Watch her,” Mando reminded Toro, gesturing to Fennec. “And don’t let her get near the bike. She’s no good to us dead.”

Without a look or a word to you, he turned and started toward the dewback.

***

You walked in awkward silence, knowing you’d have to be the one to break it, but you delayed the inevitable, admiring the array of stars spread out above you. Mando stomped up and down the swells of sand, staying several paces ahead.

You meandered your way through a storm conflicting emotions: anger at yourself for getting into this situation (rightful), anger at Mando for being infuriatingly honorable (misplaced), guilt that you’d hurt Mando (well-founded), fear about your safety (appropriate), fear that Mando was about to break your heart a little bit (honest), irritation that you were trekking through a damn desert and there was an aggressive amount of sand in your boots (fair but trivial)... and a myriad of others that were too nuanced to unpack.

After deliberating for a long time, you decided to take an offensive position and offer to leave preemptively to save Mando the trouble (and to save yourself from having to hear that from him). You steeled yourself with a deep breath and interrupted the oppressive quietude of the night, jogging for a moment to catch up with him.

“We can go our separate ways when we get back to Mos Eisley. I know I’m too much of a liability to keep around, especially with the kid.”

He turned his head to look at you, the night sky reflected in his visor.

“I have enough credits to get off world some other way.”

“If that’s what you want.”

It killed you a little just how much it wasn’t what you wanted. You were supposed to be totally independent—you’d chosen this life when you joined the Rebel Alliance, knowing that if by some miracle you managed to survive, you’d be hunted for years. The call for your blood wouldn’t—and didn’t—end with the Battle of Endor, especially when Imperial remnants remained strong. And years ago, condemning yourself to this life for a just cause had seemed brave and romantic. Now, here you were, desperate to build a connection with someone else, despite the risk. And you were starting to think that truly being brave would mean accepting that risk.

At what point is it worth giving up ease for happiness, for something more?

You gathered up what nerve you could muster and took a leap.

“It’s not what I want, but I know you feel betrayed. I really am sorry I didn’t tell you—I was planning to, but I was scared. Scared that you’d take advantage of that... scared that you’d take back your offer to stick together. And the longer I waited, the harder it got to come clean.”

“I understand.”

The frostiness of his voice had given way to something a shade softer, but it still hadn’t returned to its former warmth.

You nodded.

As it became clear that he wasn’t going to say anything else, the disappointment started to settle in, trickling into the hollow of your chest. He understood, but it evidently didn’t change the fact that the fragile trust that had evolved between you was shattered.

Well, fuck.

You suppressed the wave of emotions that threatened to overtake you, focusing instead on making a new plan for yourself. There would be time to work through the feelings later, alone. Your thoughts wandered to where you might go next, running through a mental list of options. Nothing sounded appealing.

None of the places that came to mind would be stocked with a shiny, withholding Mandalorian and an ancient green toddler.

You walked for another twenty minutes before Mando spoke again.

“I want to trust you too.”

You stopped. “What?”

He halted too, turning to face you. The dark sky painted his beskar deep shades of liquid indigo, speckled with pinpricks of starlight, that moved as he shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “I wish you... uh... had felt safe enough to tell me that, but I understand why you didn’t.”

You knitted your eyebrows together. “Wait. You’re not mad?”

“I haven’t given you any reason to be open with me. And I guessed you were running from something.”

“Oh.”

“The Empire part caught me off guard—but I knew there was something.”

Of course he’d figured it out...that seemed so obvious now. He’d be able to spot that from a mile away. Plus, he knew you. You spent the last month or so learning his tells and quirks, but you hadn’t stopped to think that he was doing the same with you.

He continued: “But the kid and I are also wanted by the Empire. We’d have the same problem even if you weren’t here.”

“True...” You were struggling to recover from the whiplash.

“What are you wanted for?”

“I was an Intelligence Officer in the Alliance.” It had been years since you’d shared this information with anyone, but the words fell from your lips as naturally as if you said them every day, like you’d been ready to tell him all along and your mouth had finally caught up with your heart.

“Yeah, that makes more sense,” he said. “Explains a lot of your skills.”

You scoffed. “Fair.”

Mando cleared his throat and hooked his thumbs in his belt. “But... it’s...uh, nice to not always be alone.” He punctuated the end of his sentence with a shrug, a little embarrassed.

Relief washed over you.

You smiled. “For me too.”

“Good,” he agreed, nodding decisively.

“Shit, you really let me think you were furious,” you laughed, feeling infinitely lighter but still trying to wrap your mind around this abrupt turn.

“Sorry,” he apologized, “I was... trying to figure some things out.”

You shook your head in exasperation and started walking again, but you froze when he said your real name. You’d known your name would sound good in his voice—everything did—but the way it rumbled and rasped through the modulator was borderline sinful, agonizingly personal.

File that away for later.

You looked back at him, and he cocked his head: “So you’ll stay?”

“Yeah, I’ll stay,” you agreed, a broad grin on your face.

You both started walking again, and suddenly, trudging through the sandy desert in the middle of the night didn’t seem so bad. The dewback came back into view as you crested another sand dune.

Mando looked over at you. “Din,” he offered. “My name is Din.”

You glanced up at him, surprised. “Din,” you repeated back to him, feeling it out.

Despite the contradictory definition of the word, it suited him. He was the opposite of a cacophony, a man of few words—though to be fair, he did often cause a commotion. But as a name... Din was short, to the point. It evoked a lot of feeling for just three letters, and that felt right.

“I know your real name now. I thought it was only fair that you know mine too, but only use it when it’s just me and you and the kid,” he explained.

Your throat was unexpectedly tight.

You reached over to squeeze his arm at the elbow, where there was a gap in the beskar. He didn’t pull away.

“Thanks,” you answered, looking up into his visor.

You hoped he understood that you were thanking him for more than just his name—for his understanding, for his trust, for his protection, for his vulnerability. You couldn’t say that all out loud at the moment, but you hoped he knew.

He dipped his helmet in acknowledgement, and you dropped your hand.

When you finally reached the dewback, Din approached slowly, speaking to it in a calm, lilting voice. It warmed to him slowly, and he grabbed the reins.

He hauled himself up onto its back and then extended a hand down to you. You took it, and he pulled you up easily to sit behind him. You wrapped your arms around his middle.

“Is this okay?” You weren’t really sure why you asked this time. Things had shifted between the two of you, so you were compelled to check that the casual contact was still welcome.

He cleared his throat: “Yeah, fine,” he confirmed.

It had been a long time since you’d been physically affectionate with anyone, besides the occasional casual, short-lived tryst. It was nice to wrap your arms around someone familiar and comfortable, someone who knew you.

The dewback started forward. Din directed it back toward the cliffs with the reins in his fist. It wasn’t a huge distance, but the dewback was a slow means of transportation.

You had little idea what all this meant for your daily reality with Din. You had both shared that you wanted companionship, but that didn’t necessarily mean he was interested in anything more than that. However, for you at least, this was undeniably no longer a superficial interest that you harbored; you had real affection for him. And it seemed like he maybe was starting to feel same way about you? Or maybe he was just getting comfortable with having companionship? The man was starved for human interaction, so it was hard to know if he was warming up to you or warming up to companionship in general.

One step at a time.

Time slipped by as the dewback lumbered on. You rested your cheek against the scratchy fabric of his cape and closed your eyes. The rhythmic movement, the darkness, and comfort of the position lulled you into a light sleep.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been asleep when Din woke you, squeezing your now limp arm that was resting on his thigh above his beskar plate.

“Alive back there?” he asked in a low voice.

Leaned against him, still groggy with sleep, you felt the question rumble through his chest.

You sat up straight, pulling your arms back to your sides. “Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

He chuckled. “It’s fine. We’re close.”

The two suns had risen, bathing the landscape in the golden glow of early morning. You looked around and saw that you were a short distance from where you’d left Toro and Fennec. You couldn’t see them yet, but you figured they were hidden behind one of the many large boulders strewn across the landscape.

As you drew nearer, though, you could tell something was wrong. Only one figure came into view—and it was crumpled on the ground. Din registered this as well: his shoulders stiffened, and he pulled the reins tight to halt the dewback’s slow advance.

It was Fennec’s body on the ground. Toro was nowhere to be seen.

“Fuck,” you breathed.

“You were right about him,” said Din. “Stay here.”

Din dismounted and approached Fennec’s body. She looked dead, but he crouched to check. He tried to find a pulse, and after a moment, he stood back up and shook his head.

As Din walked back toward you, the realization dawned on you both at the same time.

“He didn’t—”

“The kid—”

“She must have—”

“We have to—”

Din hurried back onto the dewback and directed it toward Mos Eisley, doing his best to make the lumbering creature pick up its pace. It didn’t help much.

The ride back was interminable. You definitely didn’t fall asleep this time, adrenaline keeping you on edge as the hours passed. Both you and Din were incredibly tense, speaking very little, thinking only of the child.

***

Night had fallen again by the time you reached Mos Eisley. The speeder bike that Toro had been riding was parked outside Peli’s. Fury and fear spidered through your veins at the thought of him with the kid.

Din jumped off the side of the dewback and looked up at you expectantly, his arms outstretched. You maneuvered your leg over the side and slid down a bit until his hands gripped your hips, and he lowered you until your feet hit the sand. You could have easily jumped down on your own. He knew that. You knew that. You’d let him help you anyways.

You paused outside the bay to draw your blasters.

“Here,” Din offered you the flash charge.

You slipped it into your jacket sleeve, where it stayed tight against your wrist. Together, you crept through the door and down the stairway that opened up to where the Razor Crest was parked. It was eerily quiet.

You scanned the space, jumping slightly when one of Peli’s pit droids scurried past.

“Took you guys long enough.”

Toro walked slowly down the open ramp of the Crest, the barrel of the blaster in his hand pressed to Peli’s back. The child was held in his other arm.

“Looks like I’m calling the shots now. Huh?” he sneered.

The urge to hit him flared up so acutely that you clenched your fists. You hissed at him: “Don’t you da—”

“Drop your blasters and raise ‘em,” he ordered, cutting you off.

You and Din exchanged a look before throwing your blasters to the ground. In a subtle movement, you shifted the charge from your sleeve to your fist as you placed your hands behind your head.

“Cuff ‘em,” commanded Toro, nudging Peli forward and throwing two sets of cuffs to the ground.

She moved toward Din.

“No, start with her,” Toro drawled, jutting his chin toward you. “To think I almost cut Mando out of this deal,” he laughed. “I would have gotten you and Fennec, but this is so much better. I get to collect the bounty on you and this target here that Mando helped escape,” he pointed his gun at the baby and all your muscles tensed in protective rage, “...and I get to turn in the legendary Mandalorian himself—a Guild traitor.”

Peli walked behind you. You grasped the charge in your fist so that she would be able to see the top of it. You heard her quiet, sharp intake of breath.

“Fennec was right,” Toro continued smugly. “Bringing you three in won’t just make me a member of the Guild—it’ll make me legendary. Three high-value targets on my first try. Wow, I should really thank you guys.”

Peli was fumbling with the cuffs behind you, taking longer than necessary on purpose.

You hoped she was ready to duck because you’d heard enough of Toro’s self-congratulatory monologue. You released the charge.

In the split second of blinding light, you, Din, and Peli sprinted in opposite directions, taking cover. Toro groaned and attempted to cover his eyes, shooting blindly at the empty space where you had been standing.

Din took Toro out in one shot.

You were closest to where he fell, so you charged forward with your blaster trained on his body. The baby wiggled out of Toro’s arms and ran toward you. His big eyes were watery and his arms stretched toward you, his fingers making little grabby motions. He chittered nervously as you scooped him up with your free arm, and he buried his head in your shoulder.

You kicked Toro’s blaster away from his body as Din approached to make sure he was dead. After he checked his pulse, Din tugged the pouch of credits from Toro’s belt and tossed it to Peli. “Here,” he said.

With a gasp, she caught it and emptied the pouch in her hands. Credits tumbled out, a few falling to the ground.

“That cover us?” Din asked.

Peli looked shocked, scrambling to pick them all up. “Yeah... uh, yes. This is gonna cover you.” It was clearly far more than she was expecting.

You passed the child over to Din, and he looked down at the baby, tilting his helmet in...what? Affection? Relief? This was a head tilt you hadn’t defined yet.

Peli approached him and looked down at the child. “You take care of him, you hear?”

Din nodded.

“Thank you for watching him,” you said to Peli, genuinely grateful that she had turned out to be trustworthy.

“Besides getting held at gunpoint... I guess it wasn’t too bad,” she replied, smiling down at the baby. She’d clearly grown fond of him, and you couldn’t blame her. After a moment, Peli mumbled a goodbye and walked away, eagerly counting the credits in her hands, her pit droids skittering after her.

You stood there, finger caught between three tiny green ones, as the kid babbled and cooed up at you. When you looked up, Din’s helmet was trained on your face.

He tipped his head toward the open ramp of the Crest in a wordless invitation.

You smiled at him, a comforting warmth settling in your chest, and he followed you into the hull.

***

Chapter 7

#tempered glass #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #my writing #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x female reader #the mandalorian x female reader #din djarin x f!reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #reader insert #mandalorian reader insert #din djarin reader insert

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mystic-shadows42 · 3 years

Text

Allure {Part 2}

Warnings: None

Aslaug and her sons gathered around to have their meal just as they always did around this time of the day. They had all been unusually quiet. Aslaug had noticed that they never were lively with you gone

So to get them to open up more, she turned her attention on Ubbe.

“When are you going to marry and have children?”

Ubbe sighed loudly. This conversation has come up quite a few times much to his displeasure.

“This again mother?”

“I am curious as to why you haven’t found yourself a suitable woman. They’re plenty here to choose from.”

“I don’t intend on marrying anyone anytime soon.”

Ubbe had lost his appetite at the thought of having to marry. His mother has always been adamant that he should lead his brothers by example.

He didn’t want to marry to lead by example. He simply wanted to live his own life without being questioned or pushed to do so.

“That’s because he’s waiting for the inevitable to happen. We all know she’ll never marry him.”

“Whom do you speak of?” Aslaug asked curiously. She hadn’t seen any of her boys stick with one woman for long.

“Y/N,” Sigurd stated in an obvious manner.

“Shut up Sigurd!” Ubbe stated, throwing a piece of food at him. Aslaug felt like she was starting to lose control now that her boys were starting to fawn over you.

“I don’t think the daughter of Lagertha would be a good choice, considering her mother was once with your father.” Aslaug wanted their attention directed elsewhere other than on you.

“I’m surprised you’re actually denying a candidate for marriage.” All the boys grumbled in agreement.

“I want the best for you. She seems sweet but I’d rather you go with...someone else.”

“You sound bitter.”

Aslaug ground her teeth and turned to look at all her sons who were now focused on her.

“I have no reason to be, it’s just that there’s always someone better. I figured Bjorn and Lagertha would object to such a pairing considering the circumstances. Even if you were to be with Y/N there’d always be complications. It can’t always be-”

The doors had opened abruptly making all of them turn their heads to see who had interrupted their conversation. When they saw it was you at the door, they all sat up straighter staring at you with surprised looks on their faces.

Your arrival had been unknown to them.

“Oh, you’re all having dinner. My apologies, I was just looking for Bjorn.”

Ubbe stood up from his seat immediately. “Don’t go. Have dinner with us.”

“I don’t think I should.”

“Please,” you couldn’t help it when all of them looked at you like that. So you gave in and nodded to them.

One of the new thralls was quick to give you a seat that was on the other end. Before any of the boys could say anything to you, Aslaug jumped in.

“So, Y/N, we certainly weren’t expecting you to come here today.”

“Which she’s always welcomed to at any time.” Ivar chimed in winking at you.

Aslaug bit her tongue not liking how quick they were to come to your defense. She didn’t hate you, she just didn’t like how you had the power to make or break her sons. That uncertainty is what unsettled her.

“My visit won’t be long. I plan on going back to Hedeby.”

“You don’t have to leave so soon. My boys rather enjoy your company. I myself don’t even know that much about you other than you being Lagertha’s daughter.”

You slightly tilted your head at Aslaug. “Something tells me that you know more than you’d like to share. You see my mother told me of your particular outlook on things that haven’t happened yet. She’s shared something with me when I was but a little girl still. One that I didn’t understand until I became a woman. I’m sure you know what I’m talking about. It was, after all, your vision.”

Aslaug hummed. She was impressed with your quick wit.

“What vision do you two speak of?” Sigurd was quite curious as well as his other brothers. He had grown accustomed to the fact that his mother had visions. One that foresaw him having a defect in his eye making it look like a snake.

“It’s nothing.”

“I want to know now,” Hvitserk spoke while leaning forward. His food had been long forgotten now that you were here.

“It wasn’t my vision.” You stated looking to Aslaug. You knew she never told any of her boys what she saw. She figured if she never said anything that you might be forgotten somehow. “You can tell them.”

You nodded once more to Aslaug to let her know that it was okay to continue. All the boys then turned their attention onto their mother who was debating whether or not to tell them.

She knew it wouldn’t affect the outcome either way but still, it felt as if she was admitting defeat.

The gods personally had you under their care because they favored Lagertha. It was set in the stars that Aslaug would bear Ragnar’s children. It was a bitter-sweet twist of fate.

Not one person could truly live in happiness once the gods had plans for them.

She knew her time would soon be up. She had her sons and raised them well. She wouldn’t grow old, no, she would leave this earth soon but did she really want you around her boys manipulating them when she’s gone?

“My vision occurred when Y/N was just a little babe. She had this...presence about her. An aura if you will. I knew then that she was under the protection of the gods. How else would you explain Lagertha having a baby after so many failed attempts of conceiving? That wasn’t all. I saw that when she became a woman that all you boys would flank to her side. Be with her even when if it went against everything you believed in.”

Ubbe scoffed and threw a piece of meat down on his plate. Aslaug raised her eyebrow at his reaction.

“What? You don’t believe me?”

“You know I don’t. While I do believe what you see has some truth to it, I believe everyone acts on their own free will. Your vision changes nothing. My brothers and I do what we want and we’ll continue to do that until the day we die.”

“Oh, so you don’t think you’re overly fond of Y/N here? Do you not wish her to be your future bride?”

Ubbe’s smug smile had dissipated.

“In your vision mother,” Ivar quipped. “Do any one of us have her to ourselves?”

Aslaug sighed aloud. “I only saw her with all of you kneeling down to her. It was all just a bunch of quick flashes.”

“I hope you didn’t see everything. I’m quite a giving lover, that I’m proud to admit.”

Hvitserk was all smiles at what he said with only Ivar smiling at his joke. Aslaug was annoyed more than ever with her sons.

“Not all of you can have her. If any one of you were to marry it’d have to be just with one. Marriage is sacred.”

“I know it’s customary and ideal to marry but I don’t plan on doing such a thing,” you chimed in.

Aslaug clicked her tongue and patted her mouth with a cloth.

“May I ask why?”

“I’ve never seen one marriage in my life that worked. There’s no sense of love or loyalty. My mother told me of her previous marriages and they all failed some way or another. I made a vow to myself that I won’t be like that. I’ll make my own decisions on what I think is right.”

“Well, that seems a bit harsh. Don’t you want to elevate your status? You’re very beautiful and I bet you’d be capable of marrying an earl or even a king.”

“None of that is fitting for me. Marrying an earl or king would mean that I would be under their thumb. Those of high power are used to being in charge. They’d probably have very little patience for what I say and do.”

“I do admit it takes some getting used to but that’s what husbands are for. They’ll give you children and life goes on after that.”

“That doesn’t seem much of a life for me.”

All the talk of marriage between you and Aslaug had been a strain in the brothers’ eyes. Not one of them wanted to marry, but when the mention of you possibly marrying someone else in a made-up scenario just didn’t sit right with them. It would have to be one of them or no one at all.

Hvitserk reached for your hand and stroked it with his thumb, offering comfort and support.

“Don’t worry marriage is a tough subject for us too.”

“Perhaps we should go for a walk outside?” Ubbe mentioned wanting to get away from all this talk.

“Yeah, but Ivar can’t come. He’ll only slow us down if we have to carry him.”

“Sigurd,” Aslaug warned.

“What? Do you really think a cripple like him has a chance at being loved without women feeling sorry for him? I doubt he has any chance of having children. Though, I think it’s probably for the best.”

“Sigurd! That’s enough.” At the sharpness of your voice, Sigurd backed down.

Everything was hitting Ivar all at once. His anger towards his brothers began to surface. They had always doubted him. The rage and jealousy hit him tenfold.

“Y/N, did you know that my brothers here have all shared the slave girl, Margrethe? That’s all they’ve been doing since you’ve been gone.”

After Ivar made his announcement Ubbe nudged Ivar’s seat and Hvitserk’s eyes grew wide. Sigurd was flabbergasted. They all were at a loss for words.

Now Ivar was the one with the smug look.

All three brothers were glaring at Ivar before turning their attention to you.

You retracted your hand from Hvitserk then watched them all before briefly turning your attention on the thrall whom they were speaking about. Her eyes were cast downwards while shuffling her feet in obvious discomfort.

“I appreciate you being truthful Ivar but your brothers can bed whomever they want. They can do whatever they want. They’re free right? Now if you’ll excuse me I have to find my brother.”

“Y/N, please,” Ubbe spoke up but you didn’t even turn to acknowledge him.

“Well, brothers it seems like I’m going to be favored and in Y/N’s good graces. Good luck trying to win over her affection.” Ivar smiled boastfully.

“She said we can do what we want.”

The brothers all looked at Hvitserk shaking their heads.

“Poor Hvitserk, so slow to catch on,” Ivar chuckled.

“Would you be okay with Y/N sleeping with someone else?” Hvitserk shrugged. “Other than us.”

That’s when Hvitserk’s expression changed. He didn’t like that thought at all.

“Yeah, I can see why she’d be upset.”

“I think it’s for the best. You all should keep your distance with her.” Aslaug had no problem voicing her opinion on the matter. She was actually glad her boys were focused on someone else at the moment.

“Why’s that?”

“She is the daughter of Lagertha after all. She’s probably turned her into a good manipulator seeing that she is a beautiful seductress to you all.”

“I don’t care who her mother is. I only care for her,” Ubbe spoke up.

“I suppose that’s why you slept with the help then,” Ivar couldn’t help himself. He wanted to revel in their misery which worked when Ubbe stood up and stormed off with the meek thrall following after him.

Everybody else dismissed themselves after that, leaving Aslaug all alone while they all scurried after you.

Tagged: @belovedcherry @lordsexmachine @lol-haha-joke @mariaenchanted @ethereallysimple @bababasti @ir-abelas-telanadas

#Lothbroks #Ragnarssons #Ubbe #Hvitserk #Sigurd #Ivar #Ubbe x reader #Hvitserk x reader #Sigurd x reader #Ivar x reader #Ubbe Lothbrok #Hvitserk Lothbrok #Sigurd Lothbrok #Ivar Lothbrok #Vikings

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free-falling-grenade · 3 years

Note

Imagine Raya being all cocky once she accepts her feelings for Namaari, they are walking down the palace in Fang and raya goes "i will fight anyone and everyone for your love" or something like that, and Virana is nearby and says "I accept the challenge" and both girls are like :o *insert pikachu meme here *

HA. Omg, Virana totally would accept the challenge. AAA Here’s a mini ficlet for it: “I accept the challenge”

Raya blinks owlishly at the Chief before leaning in to ask Namaari if her mother is secretly a skilled warrior. But she herself doesn't actually know how well the Chief of Fang can fight. Never given the opportunity to see, so when she says that she accepts Raya's challenge, she's quite taken aback.

Namaari just stares wide eyed and shrugs because she can't tell if her mother was just joking or if she was serious, her expression too neutral to guess.

Raya stands there almost faltering from the Chief's challenging stare but she shakes away her fear and nervously nods, "So be it"

Namaari just turns to her utterly shocked, because she can't be serious right now.

They're right outside the throne room, at the bottom of the steps. Fang soldiers and merchants alike have gathered to watch out of curiosity after overhearing the challenge.

Virana just steps forward, and casually asks for the spear General Atitaya is holding. She hands it to her in a daze, not quite sure if the Chief will pull through. She fears for her well being. She knows how well Raya is with her fighting skills, having had the opportunity to witness Namaari's and her spars, and being offered to spar against her as well.

Raya draws out her kris slowly, stepping forward herself, a few feet distance between her and the Chief. She gulps thickly, "Okay. We're actually doing this. Cool, cool." She mostly says to herself.

Virana just raises an eyebrow smirking, "Don't tell me you are backing out, Princess Raya." She taunts as she weighs Atitaya's spear in her hands, flipping it around seamlessly.

Raya just scoffs a little offended, "I never back out from a challenge, Chief Virana. Especially not when it's for Namaari's hand"

Meanwhile the Fang princess stands there glued to the floor, the crowd staring at her, some expecting her to stop the two before literal blood is shed. But the problem is, Namaari knows three of the most stubborn people in her life: one of which is herself, and the other two? The ladies in front of her seemingly ready to cut each others throats out. There is literally no stopping them once their mind is made.

She runs a hand through her hair, keeping it in place as she watches Raya and her mother, who she still has no knowledge of how well her fighting skills are, position themselves into a fighting stance.

In any other day, Namaari would laugh at the comical idea of it all, her mother in her signature white dress, and Raya in way too formal clothing to be comfortable in a fight.

"Just a warning, Chief. I don't plan on holding back" Raya warns, if she's going to this, might as well not let her guard down.

Virana just grins, "I didn't expect you to" she says then charges, skipping the pleasantries. Her dress limiting her steps a little but enough for her to move around smoothly.

Raya, caught of guard, hastily blocks the spear coming at her face. She huffs away her shock, a playful grin coming to her face at the realization that this is definitely not a game. It's indeed a legit challenge the Chief had agreed to and she will treat it as such.

She swings her own blade towards the Chief, her mind consciously pulling back her strength, afraid she might hurt the princess' mother. However, Virana seems to sense this, using it to her advantage to nick the skin on her shoulder. This elicited a loud gasp around them.

Raya backflips away, glancing down at the cut. She looks up at the Fang Chief's face who wore a smug look, "I thought you said you weren't going to hold back?"

The Heart princess can't help the amusement to show on her lips, she now understands where Namaari's infuriating taunts came from.

Instead of replying, she charges with complete intention to hurt, not caring that she is facing the Chief of Fang anymore. She swings aggressively leaving no space for the older woman to strike. She sees her struggling, her dress limiting her movements as she backs away trying to block each of her powerful strikes.

Raya for a second thought to give her a break, so she swiftly pulls the leg under the dress with her own, tripping her backwards. She lands on her back with a loud thud, her white dress now soiled and damaged.

She doesn't notice Atitaya holding back some of the Fang soldiers who were about to step in and help their Chief. Namaari who's rendered speechless stood ramrod stiff. The crowd wore wary expressions watching their beloved Chief on the floor.

Raya turns away for a second to catch her lover’s gaze but she regrets it almost immediately hearing the shuffle from in front her. She fails to react fast enough, feeling the long metal spear swiftly hitting the back of her knees knocking her off balance then the edge of it meeting her stomach.

She huffs out in pain, mustering the energy to roll away quickly when the spear lifts again to hit her.

She doesn’t get time to spit out a witty retort when the Chief starts swinging at her with surprising precision and tentative strikes. The hits as powerful as Raya's previous swipes earlier. She blocks them effortlessly though, looking for a way to knock her out again but the speed is seemingly too distracting to even think of a way.

She grunts in frustration, deciding to put a physical distance between them instead as she uses the Chief's leg that's pushed forward to step on her thighs and jump over the tall woman. She uses the distraction to step back a little, recollecting herself.

She breathes out to calm her thoughts, risking another glance at the other princess who stood way too dazed and in shock to even glance at her back. She huffs out an amused laugh at her face. The Chief charges at her noticing the distracted moment, the end of her spear managing to graze the side of her cheek. She hisses out in pain.

She slides down dodging her next swing but as if predicted, the older woman's knee collides with her face harshly. She sees white spots temporarily as she falls on her knees disoriented. She feels the sharp edge of the spear by her neck.

"Do you yield, Princess of Heart?" She hears the Chief say sounding a bit too winded.

Raya takes in a deep shaky breath, her eyes closing. She exhales out with a grin, "Never."

She doesn't let the older woman react before reaching out and pulling her spear forward, letting it slice the surface of her neck lightly. She uses the close distance to throw a dirty punch on the Chief's midsection. She inwardly cringed at that, her mind still hoping she didn't hurt her too much. But her body reacting by itself, stood up to kick the bent over Chief that sent her skidding backwards.

She waits for a few more seconds to see if the woman would stand again but when she remained on the floor coughing, she walks over pointing down her sword at her opponent's throat.

"Do you yield, Chief of Fang?" Her tone surprisingly serious as Virana stares back at the Princess' determined eyes.

She lets the silence lapse between them, the hushed whispers of the crowd barely audible as she tries to find any ill intent and malice in the young girl's eyes. However, she sees nothing but love and devotion.

A tender smile graces Virana's lips, her arms lifting up in surrender, "I yield, Princess. You win"

She hears Raya's sharp intake of breath before seeing her sword clatter beside them and bending down to pull her up into an embrace. The crowd around them breaks into an applause, clearly entertained from the intense fight.

She grunts in pain at the bone crushing hug the Princess has her in, "You have my blessing, sunlight. But if you could let me breathe, that would be great" she manages to murmur out.

Raya pulls back instantly, an apologetic look on her face. There are tears that brimmed her eyes, "I'm sorry"

"I'll be fine. You left this old lady pretty bruised but you are quite a fighter, Princess."

Raya bashfully grins, "You left me some pretty nice cuts too. But, who knew the Chief of Fang has hidden skills up her sleeve" “I’m no damsel in distress, Princess Raya. I am a well capable Chief” Virana states half heartedly.

Raya snickers lightly, not doubting it for a second. She stands up offering a hand for the older woman to take. She willingly accepts, pulling herself upright. She staggers back a little but the feeling of strong arms catches her quick.

Namaari stands behind her mother supporting her. She shakes her head vigorously, a smile of disbelief tugging on her lips, "You both are actually insane and out of your minds"

Raya smiles softly, "Just for you, dep la"

Virana nods in agreement then latches on to her daughter's hold, visibly exhausted. Raya lifts the older woman's other arm behind her neck to support her other side.

"Let's get you to the healers"

They help the beat up Chief walk, the merchants and guards bowing in respect as they passed, all of them beaming with pride and joy as if she had won the fight.

"You definitely gave them something to write for Kumandra's history books" Namaari comments eliciting a genuine laugh from the older Chief.

"The only time I don't mind being defeated" Virana tenderly says. The two lovers on each of her side supporting her. She really doesn't mind another daughter in the family. -x- This got so long omg. Thank you, anon? Also you can’t possibly tell me Virana doesn’t know how to fight. I doubt she’s all bark and no bite. That woman is hiding her skills coz she doesn’t wanna get her dirty. Should i post this on ao3 or just leave it here LOL

#uhhh this turned longer than i thought #OOPS #well have a ficlet i guess?#rayaari #rayaari fanfic #raya #namaari #chief virana #raya and the last dragon

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Text

Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 24 - ao3 -

The Cloud Recesses was calm and serene, tranquil and undisturbed. But unlike its usual tranquility, Lan Qiren felt that it was the calm of the moment before a firework exploded, the air thick and heavy with the impending eruption of an oncoming storm.

Lan Qiren’s brother continued to neglect his work to court He Kexin, who seemed to have improved her opinion of him somewhat during the time that Lan Qiren was gone, though whether it was the earnestness of his passionate pursuit, flattery at the idea of a man gone mad for her, or just that she’d become resigned to the idea for the moment, it wasn’t clear. What was clear to anyone with eyes was that her regard for him, although apparently now genuine, was nowhere near as fanatical as his. Lan Qiren suspected that they had started sleeping together, which seemed like a mistake on her part.

Still, brother or no, this was not a matter in which he was qualified to intervene.

Lan Qiren returned to his usual life, although he again temporarily delayed his planned departure in order to assist with sect matters – whatever his relationship with his brother, Lan Qiren loved his sect very much, and he, at least, would not so easily allow it to slip into disarray through neglect. No one asked him about the matter of He Kexin; his teachers pretended his unjust punishment had not happened but avoided his eyes for several weeks, and his peers had mostly moved on with their lives.

(His brother pretended he didn’t exist, but Lan Qiren didn’t hold it against him. Rumor had it that Wen Ruohan had either threatened or actually hit him or both to make clear how much he disapproved of what happened to Lan Qiren, and whether or not that was true, Lan Qiren enjoyed the thought too much to quibble over how his brother wanted to salvage his dignity.)

Lan Yueheng passed along news – not gossip, he said self-righteously, just news, as if Lan Qiren would somehow miss the fact that ever since he’d paired up with that pretty storehouse clerk of his, Lan Yueheng had belatedly discovered the joys of gossip and taken to it like a fish to water – but there wasn’t much of it, not even with his beloved Zhang Xin’s prodigious capacity for romantic stories and ability to embroider just about any situation into something resembling one. Cangse Sanren wrote Lan Qiren several letters, but once she’d been assured of his health and wellbeing, they largely shifted over to complaining about the Jin sect, where she was now residing, and occasionally included lurid descriptions of Wei Changze specifically meant to shock his conscience.

How are you even seeing him, Lan Qiren wrote back. Aren’t you in Lanling? He’s a servant in Yunmeng. Doesn’t he have a job?

Jiang Fengmian has ascended to the position of sect leader, she wrote back. He has to visit the other sects relatively often, and the Jiang sect has always been close to the Jin sect. Why shouldn’t they visit?

Lan Qiren thought about his brother and shook his head. Was irresponsibility in the rainwater this year?

I trust you’ve made your view on the matter clear to Jiang Fengmian.

Of course, she replied. He seems to live in hope that one day I’ll change my mind.

You’ve never changed your mind about anything.

So I’ve told him. Really, the fact that he doesn’t realize that is yet another reason why we wouldn’t be a good pair – putting aside his role, which I don’t want to share. Can you imagine me as mistress of the Lotus Pier? I’d be awful at it.

Lan Qiren imagined it, and shuddered.

Anyway, I’m like you – I want to travel! There’s so much to see out there. What a pity it would be to be trapped inside all day, like a caged lark singing only for a select few.

You could always invite others to come share their stories with you instead, he replied, thinking of Wen Ruohan sitting alone in the room he had designed for Lan Qiren like a dollhouse, waiting for a maid to help him vent his emotions over Lao Nie and Lan Qiren both. The rumors from Qishan said he’d recently taken on a concubine and that she was pregnant; Madame Wen was apparently furious over it. Bring the world to you, if you can’t go to them. That’s what sect leaders generally do, to my understanding: feathering their nest to make it bright and pleasing to their eyes because they cannot leave lest it fall apart. That’s a way of living, too.

I suppose, she replied, fearless and carefree as ever. But not for me!

There was Lao Nie, too.

He visited the Cloud Recesses a month or so after Lan Qiren’s visit to the Nightless City, belatedly concerned about Lan Qiren’s well-being – “I didn’t hear about it,” he said, looking shamefaced. “I had other matters on my mind…I’ll talk to your brother, though. I can’t believe he would order something so disproportionate. Is he here?”

“He is not,” Lan Qiren said with a sigh. Those who said you couldn’t change a man’s essential nature were not wrong, he thought, already forgiving Lao Nie despite his lack of actual apology.

Lan Qiren had always liked people whose spirits were bold and relentless, uncompromising and unbending just like him; there was really no other way to explain his truly inexplicable fondness for Cangse Sanren and Lan Yueheng and even Wen Ruohan, except maybe to say that he found himself compelled to love where he was loved in return. Lao Nie was like two drops of water with the rest of them, forging his own path in the world, wholly and truly himself – even if he left chaos in his wake, why should Lan Qiren expect more of him than to be exactly what he was?

“He’s out night-hunting,” he added. “Down in the south. There were tales of some very unusual beasts roaming there.”

He Kexin had expressed a mild interest in response to a storyteller’s tale, and naturally Lan Qiren’s brother whisked her away at once, her and all her friends that he always seemed to be paying for. Lan Qiren had thought that she kept them around her as a means of holding his brother off, but Zhang Xin had opined over a shared cup of tea that she thought He Kexin was treating the great and powerful Qingheng-jun as a convenient purse, that treating her friends to his largesse was the point and not the defense.

Zhang Xin liked to hold forth on her views, forthright and unstoppable and loud, and Lan Qiren could see why Lan Yueheng constantly looked so infatuated whenever he gazed upon her – she was not dissimilar to one of the explosions he created in his alchemy laboratory. They were very well matched, and Lan Qiren deeply pitied whichever teacher got stuck with their eventual offspring, which he foresaw as being the least Lan sect juniors to have ever graced their ranks.

“Gone? I’ll see him when he comes back, then,” Lao Nie said, entirely unperturbed by such concerns. “Let me tell you about my son instead! He’s wonderful – a big, fat baby.”

Lan Qiren crossed his arms. “We can talk about your baby later. What about your wife?”

“A goddess!”

Perhaps he was going about this the wrong way, Lan Qiren mused. “Lao Nie,” he said. “What about Wen da-ge?”

Lao Nie blinked at him. “Hanhan? He’s doing well, too.”

Lan Qiren resisted the urge to strangle Lao Nie.

“Oh,” Lao Nie said, apparently figuring something out based on Lan Qiren’s sour expression. “You mean the fact that he’s angry at me?”

“Yes,” Lan Qiren said patiently. “He’s very angry at you. Do you know why?”

“I’ve tried talking with him about it,” Lao Nie complained. “I don’t know why he’s being so stiff all of a sudden…it’s not like he doesn’t know what I’m like.”

This, Lan Qiren supposed, was definitely true.

“He thought of you as his,” Lan Qiren said. “Didn’t you know?”

Lao Nie shrugged, careless as a boar in full charge, heedless of the damage wrought around him as he moved through the world, none of which could penetrate his thick hide. “Of course. But being his doesn’t make me any less my own, and I can belong to others, too. Who’s he to tell me not to give myself where I will? Does he have dominion over me?”

“He doesn’t want dominion over you,” Lan Qiren said, and Lao Nie looked at him skeptically – which was fair enough. Wen Ruohan was possessed of a strong desire for domination, whether of people, places, or things; he truly believed all good things in the world ought to belong to him, and Lan Qiren only hoped that he never shifted over to thinking that he was actually the rightful owner of all things, for that path led inexorably to the reign of the tyrant. “Truly! Not over you, or any of the people close to his heart. If he wanted merely to possess you, he might as well try to snatch you off to his sect and give you his surname.”

“Not with the sort of relationship we have,” Lao Nie said, a smug smirk curling his lips. “If you know what I mean.”

Lan Qiren sighed. Truly, it was a pity to have reached the age in which everyone around him seemed to think of nothing but sex; he couldn’t wait until they were all too old for such things. Surely it couldn’t be that long…?

“You know what I mean,” he said patiently. “He’s not after Sect Leader Nie, not making some powerplay or attempting to seduce you in order to win your talents over. He likes you, Lao Nie, and all he expects from you is that you like him back.”

“I do!” Lao Nie protested. “I really do. He’s my darling Hanhan, isn’t he? He’s the one setting up walls between us, all because he’s gotten his feathers in a twist over something that’s really nothing. If it’s my time that he’s worried about splitting, what’s the surprise? My sect will always come first, as will his for him. I don’t even have a wife anymore!”

“You – don’t?” Lan Qiren stared, expression blanking out in his shock: this was not a piece of news that had reached his ears. He put down his teacup. “Lao Nie, if something happened –”

“Oh, no, it’s not like that,” Lao Nie said dismissively. “She’s a goddess, like I told you! She’s off and around, coming and going, everywhere and nowhere at once – how could my Nie sect hope to contain such a creature?”

“But…you married her?”

“So? Does that mean I need to live with her?”

Lan Qiren was truly taken aback. He had never heard of such an unorthodox arrangement. “You have a son together! Who is raising him?”

“Me, of course! With the aid of plenty of servants, naturally. I wouldn’t dream of tying her down…ah, Qiren, don’t look so shocked. We’re all our own people, with our own wants and desires. Sometimes those desires pair well, and you can live together happily and well for the rest of your lives; sometimes they don’t. If you fall for someone whose desires don’t line up to your own, you can still pursue something with them. That you wouldn’t match well in what’s considered the orothodox fashion is no reason not to match at all, not if there can be an unorthodox arrangement that causes no one any harm.”

“Are we still talking about your ‘goddess’ wife?” Lan Qiren asked. “Or Wen da-ge?”

Lao Nie smiled ruefully. That sharp cleverness that was always with him lingered in his eyes, having been hidden beneath his distraction and his infatuation and his deliberately careless manner. “I tried to tell him,” he said. “From the very beginning…I was the one doing the pursuing, you know. He didn’t even want me at the start. The stupid fool, he thought he’d be better off alone, alone with the cold delights of political power and the miserable fascinations of that Fire Palace of his, leaving no room in his heart for any human warmth at all. You know what they all say about him: that he lost something when he passed the boundaries of his first human lifetime, his cultivation so high as to make him closer to a god than a man.”

Lan Qiren had heard that, too. At the beginning, he’d seen what people meant, but later, once he got closer, he didn’t see it at all.

“Before I convinced him to have me, he was far worse,” Lao Nie said bluntly. “If you think he was bad when you were younger, you have no idea – forget putting you in a dollhouse and dressing you up to suit his whims over your complaints; if he’d wanted you alongside him back then, he wouldn’t have hesitated to carve out your soul and turn you into a heartless puppet instead. It wouldn’t have satisfied him, of course, and eventually he would have discarded you, never knowing why he couldn’t get what he wanted from you.”

“Know your own mind,” Lan Qiren quoted. “What he would have wanted was the heart, sincerely given, and yet that was the first part thrown away…but such a realization would be too late and too bad for the victim, even if he later regretted.”

“He didn’t regret much, when I first got to know him,” Lao Nie said. “Nothing but trouble, down to his bones; that’s what he was, and what he still is, really. Lucky for him, I like a bit of trouble.”

That was an understatement. Lao Nie liked a lot of trouble, the more the better; it was really no wonder that he’d attached himself to Wen Ruohan.

“I pursued him,” Lao Nie said, picking up the thread from where he’d left off. “I dug out all the human parts of him that I could from underneath that stiff and stern human mask of his, and in the end he wanted me, too. But throughout it all I told him, I told him, that I wasn’t free for the keeping – that I knew myself, with my nose for trouble and wickedness, that I’d never be satisfied with just the one. That the only one who’d ever have all of me was my saber, and only because she doesn’t want anything in return but blood. He liked that, once. He thought it was a good thing.”

Yes, Lan Qiren could see that. Especially in the beginning, Wen Ruohan would not have wanted someone who gave him everything; he was like a wild cat, standoffish with those that longed for him and close to those that rejected him. One of the most powerful cultivators, sect leader of the most powerful sect – if he wanted someone who would simper and flirt and yield for him, he could have a dozen at the blink of an eye.

Someone like Lao Nie, who had a firm sense of identity and neither needed nor wanted anything from the outside world, who was always truly fundamentally himself, was far more his style.

So was someone like Lan Qiren, for that matter. Uncompromising and strict, mind preoccupied with his idiosyncratic obsessions – Wen Ruohan had thought him interesting, for whatever reason, and in time had grown jealous of those other thoughts, longing to be counted among them.

Lan Qiren rubbed at his temples. “He always seemed to enjoy you going off with others,” he noted, wondering if Lao Nie had more insight into the matter. “Why is this different? He got married, too.”

“Hanhan’s tastes are changing as he remembers more of what it means to be human,” Lao Nie said thoughtfully, accepting more tea when Lan Qiren poured it out for him. “I only excavated the surface, the rough parts of him that suited my interests, and he was content with our relationship being friendly and casual. But for you he brought out his soft underbelly and the hint of civilization that he used to have, remembering what he used to be and the things he used to want…I see he even gave you some of his paintings.”

Lan Qiren looked where Lao Nie was looking and saw the two paintings on his wall by the mysterious artist. “His paintings..? He painted these? It doesn’t feel anything like him!”

“Trust me, his qi is unmistakable to one who’s known it as intimately as I have. It’s definitely him – though I’d say these paintings are nearly a century old. Can we say that we are the same people we were between yesterday and today? Even the course of the mighty river can shift over time.”

Lan Qiren was stuck looking at the paintings. Free, he’d said to Wen Ruohan, all unknowing. The person who painted these was free and happy. Their soul is like a falcon’s, tied down by nothing.

For all the power and might that Wen Ruohan could bring to bear these days, Lan Qiren wouldn’t use any of those terms to describe him as he was now.

“He’ll forgive me,” Lao Nie said confidently, putting his cup down. “Give him time to remember why he liked me so much, remember all the warnings I gave him, and he’ll get over it. Maybe we’ll be a little less close than before, maybe there’ll be more anger and jealousy between us - at any rate, I haven’t pushed him so far to the brink that he would try to kill me to keep anyone else from having me, at least not yet. He’s just disappointed, that’s all. He’d only just realized that he wanted more when he realized he couldn’t get it.”

Lan Qiren nodded slowly. He thought that Lao Nie was right, although he also thought it was stupid of him to knowingly play with fire in such a brazen manner – Wen Ruohan really wouldn’t hesitate to murder a fellow sect leader, even one in another Great Sect, if he was determined enough, and he was smart and twisted enough to think of a way to get away with it, too.

Still, just as Lan Qiren had gotten over his feelings about Wen Ruohan’s inclination towards seeing torture and pain as entertainment, realizing that if he wanted him then he had to accept him as he was rather than rejecting him for it, Wen Ruohan would do the same for Lao Nie. He would remember what Lao Nie was like, what he’d always been like, and he would teach himself to appreciate those traits that he had once thought preferable, even as he resented them.

They’d get over this. Lan Qiren was sure of it.

What would come of it in the future, though...

“Anyway, I’ve dithered for long enough,” Lao Nie said. “I really only swung by briefly to say hello. I’m due at the Jin sect before the week’s out, and that means I have to go at once. Anything you want me to pass along to your lady-love rogue cultivator?”

“Leave Cangse Sanren alone, that’s what you can do for me,” Lan Qiren said. “Also, we’re still not lovers, nor will we ever be. Not everyone’s you!”

“No, they’re not,” Lao Nie said, grinning at him. “And that’s the way I like it – the richer the variety of the world, the more interesting people I can meet and be friends with, just like you.”

Lan Qiren was so overwhelmed by the compliment – he of course considered Lao Nie a friend of his, having as he did so many acquaintances and so few true friends, but he hadn’t realized that Lao Nie saw him as a genuine friend in return – that it didn’t even occur to him until it was too late that he hadn’t brought up the matter of his brother and He Kexin, nor told Lao Nie that he needed to stop his reckless encouragement of that relationship.

He’d tried to put that whole thing out of mind, Lan Qiren thought to himself with a sigh, and he’d succeeded – too well.

Whatever. His brother wouldn’t listen to their own sect elders, even as their exhortations shifted from encouragement to censure and their suggestions to leave it alone got more and more pointed, their interventions less and less subtle. Why would he listen to Lao Nie?

He’d just go his own way and do what he wanted, no matter what.

Lan Qiren ought to learn from his example and put the whole thing aside, accepting the facts just as they were. He’d finally given up on the idea that he could help his sect through this moment of disaster - there would simply be nothing for it; they would have to stumble along without him or else force his brother to actually do his job, but in any event, it wasn’t his problem.

He was going to go - he was going to finally make his way out of the sect for his long-planned travel, and when he did, he wouldn’t need to worry about his brother, or He Kexin, or any of it.

Only a few more months from the date he’d informed the sect elders of, he thought, and this time he would stick to it, not delay. A few more months...he could even count the time in days, if he wished.

His brother (and He Kexin) would return from their night-hunt in a few days, likely straight into the various elders’ less-than-subtle plans to find them and scold them over the whole thing.

Lan Qiren would give his brother ten days after he returned - the same ten days his brother had given him - before he formally informed him that he was leaving.

It wouldn’t be long now.

#mdzs #lan qiren #cangse sanren #sect leader nie #my fic #my fics #spilled pearls

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bts-hyperfixation · 3 years

Text

The Princess and The Duke – Part 1

Duke!Namjoon x Princess!reader

I know I said this wasn’t going to be out until Friday, but after the Scammys, I thought I’d put it out today! This has not yet been edited.

Warnings - future smut, allusions to smut.

The first time you met you were six months old. Barely aware you existed, let alone there was a whole world existing around you. Namjoon was two at the time. A chubby little toddler clinging desperately to his mother as he tried to hide away from all the other strange people in the room. Most of the kingdom had turned out for your christening, so obviously the future Duke’s family had also made an appearance. They stood with the rest of the court at the front of the church, most of the adults attempting to corral children of their own instead of watching the Princess’ baptism.

It was only when a shrill cry echoed through the church hall that Namjoon looked up from his mother’s shoulder trying to locate the noise. Turned out you didn’t appreciate being dipped into freezing cold holy water. From then on, he’d watched intently, each movement made by the priest and your family, craning his neck to watch you wiggle in the queen’s arms. You were just so small, and so pink. He liked pink, and you were wrapped in piles of pink lace. He knew these were traditional colours for your kingdom, his mom liked to tell him stories about the pink flowers that grew throughout his homeland. Beautiful pink daisies. They were his favourite bedtime stories.

Stories of a brave king leading his army into battle. Each week he would send home a bouquet of the only flower that grew on the battlefield. Each week the queen would know he was okay, until one week they didn’t arrive. For the next few days, the queen was inconsolable, after that she was catatonic. She sat draped in black watching the last of the pink daisies wither. As the last petal fell from the shrivelled bud, a shout was heard throughout the kingdom. The king had returned, enemies slain, and with him he brought as many flowers as the cavalry could carry. The seeds were planted throughout the country, and those were the same flowers that remained to this day. The flowers that were lining the pews of the church, and the ballroom at the palace.

After the christening, members of the court were invited for a meal and to meet the infant princess, to meet you. The banquet was held in the ballroom, a long table adorned with wreaths and favours for each of the guests. You were placed in a cradle close to the king. A place where all could visit to pay their respects and your father could protect you. Once his family had finished their meal, they visited your crib, offering a gift and paying their respects to the royals. Namjoon tugged at his mother’s dress until she lifted him to get a better look. As he peered into the cot, he was shocked to find you staring straight up at him. Other babies he met always seemed to be asleep, but not you.

He wriggled in the duchess’ arms until he could reach you. The room fell silent as he extended his chubby hand to poke at your own curled fist. No one outside of your family, the priest, and the doctors had dared to touch you yet. They waited with bated breath for a response from the king. Little Namjoon paid no attention to the eyes on him, too focused on you. Your small fingers wrapped their way around his. The king had cooed at the event, closely followed by everyone else in the room.

…

The next time you met Namjoon properly you were four, he was almost six. You’d been allowed outside to play with the other children of the court. The problem was, many of them were considerably older than you. None of the ‘big’ girls wanted to play silly little girl games. So you sat alone and watched them as they made daisy chains together. You tried to copy them from afar, but your pudgy little fingers wouldn’t cooperate, ripping through the stems instead of creating the holes needed to thread more flowers.

Namjoon had been following around the gardener when he saw you. Decapitated daisies lay by the dozen around your feet. He couldn’t bear to see the carnage continue, so he took pity on you. He picked a flower with a thick enough stem and passed it too you. To say you were thrilled was an understatement. You’d taken the flower excitedly and threaded another through before giving it back to him to make another hole. The two of you had then spent the next half hour together, him piercing stems and you threading them into long chains. He laughed as you concentrated. Your tongue stuck out of the side of your mouth as you focused on the task at hand.

When you decided the chain was long enough, he made one last hole so you could form a circle. With the ring complete you stepped on your tippy toes to place it over his head, nodding in approval as the string draped from his neck to his knees. He looked down, assessing his new accessory and beamed a smile back at you. The first time you ever saw his dimples. Immediately you were compelled to poke them. He didn’t stop you as you reached for his cheek, instead laughing so they deepened.

You weren’t like any princess he had seen in his books. Those princesses were graceful and dainty. You were more like a bull in a china shop. Honestly, he was relived. All the other boys were in high school, they had no time for him. And the girls all wanted him to play ‘prince charming’. It was fun playing with you. You’d run around the gardens with him, dig in the mud, and exchange the stories your parents read at bedtimes.

…

Age six brought the loss of your first tooth. The tooth had been placed in a tissue under your pillow and the next morning it had become money! You had been so excited to tell Namjoon all about it, only for him to burst your bubble.

“The tooth fairy isn’t real Y/N” he’d stated matter-of-factly, his nose turned up at the notion.

“Is too!” you’d cried back petulantly. You’d seen her with your own two eyes. Well you’d been half asleep, and it was dark… but you were certain it had been her.

“Is not!” the eight-year-old boy retorted. “I’ll prove it! Next time you lose a tooth don’t tell nobody. She won’t come I promise.” He’d sounded so smug. You wanted to hit him. instead you set out to prove him wrong. You kept wiggling your teeth hoping one would come loose. It’s around a month later you get your chance. The tooth came out in the apple you were eating for dessert. Carefully you hid the bone from your nanny so she couldn’t tell your parents. After you were tucked in that night, you slid the bone under your pillow and waited for the fairy to visit you. But she never came.

The next day when you saw Namjoon, you were devastated, but still not ready to concede the fairy’s existence.

“Maybe I upset her?” you sniffle at him “You’re not supposed to wait for her, I broke the rules! That’s why she didn’t come! What if she never visits me again?” tears fell freely down your face. Namjoon had never felt so guilty, not even when he lied about breaking his mom’s favourite vase. He had watched you cry for a moment, unsure of where to go from here. He had made the heir to the throne cry… could he get locked away for this?

“It’s my fault Y/N! I was just jealous” he quickly tried to formulate a believable story in his head as you wiped away your tears.

“Jealous?” your voice was small, a little hope filtering through the sadness.

“Yeah… jealous. See I… uh… I’ve nearly got all my big teeth now, so she doesn’t come to see me as often. I bet if you put the tooth under your pillow tonight and go to sleep, she will come!” your face had lit up at the news. Immediately after he’d said goodbye to you, he went and told the gardener about your tooth. When you woke up the next day, a shiny coin was in the tooth’s place. You’d held the discovery over Namjoon for the few months, but he didn’t care. He was just happy you were happy and that he didn’t get into trouble.

…

At age eight you were definitely not shaping up to be the perfect princess. In fact you were quite the rambunctious little tot. Your mother became more and more exasperated every time you turned up with a new grass stain on one of your best gowns. She begged you to spend more time having tea parties with the girls instead. It was never your fault though. The tea parties were dull and Namjoon would challenge you to a race through the maze, or to see who could climb highest in the trees. You couldn’t just let him win.

If you weren’t running around or rolling down hills, you were lying together staring up at the clouds from the middle of the topless bandstand in the middle of the maze. The beautiful white stone structure had quickly become ‘your’ spot. None of the other palace kids showed any interest in exploring the maze, and the adults always seemed to get lost trying to find you. Hours were wasted with the two of you just staring up at the sky, sometimes talking about your day, sometimes in complete silence. It was just nice to be with him.

On calmer days he would read aloud from a book while you made daisy chains. You could do it by yourself now. Much more in control of your own limbs than you used to be. The summer before Namjoon was due to go to high school you made a chain so long you could coil it around the entire base of the bandstand.

…

After he started high school, you saw a lot less of Namjoon. He wasn’t able to come around as often between his homework and extracurriculars. Instead you begged your father to let you attend his football games. Each Saturday you went in disguise with your nanny to watch Namjoon play, regardless of the weather. You weren’t even sure you enjoyed the sport, but it was worth it for the smile he flashed every time he found you amongst the onlookers.

Each week you wore a different disguise wanting to make it difficult for him, but each time he found you without fail.

You melted every time, knowing that smile was just for you. Originally you told yourself it was just a swell of pride, watching your best friend play. Eventually you had to admit to yourself that maybe it was more than that, but you swallowed the crush. After all he was in high school, he wouldn’t want a silly little girl like you anyway.

…

When you turned fourteen it was time to for you to be presented to the kingdom. A ball was thrown in your honour, the first of many you would attend in your lifetime. The thought of being alone at any big event made you feel queasy. The fact that this one was going to be focused entirely on you made you ill for an entire week before. Namjoon had spent the week trying to reassure you that everything was going to be fine. Luckily, your birthday had been during a break from school so he could spend the time with you. He grew more and more concerned as he watched your health deteriorating to a point where you could barely keep water down. Eventually he came to a decision and asked for an audience with the king himself.

He’d dressed in his best suit making sure not a single hair was out of place. He marched straight up to the double doors to your father’s study and took a deep breath, more than prepared to argue his point. Your father had welcomed Namjoon into his office with open arms. He’d always been fond of the boy, especially knowing the weak spot you held for him. Regardless of the warm reception and his original confidence in his idea, Namjoon felt the nerves begin to overtake him. He wiped his sweaty palms on the sides of his suit jacket, breath coming out shakily.

“Can I escort Y/N to her first ball.” The king had been taken aback by Joon’s sudden outburst, his face showing obvious surprise at the young man’s bold request. Namjoon mistook the expression for a dismissal and so, in a much less eloquent way than he had practiced in is shower, he fought his case.

“Y/N has been ill all week; she doesn’t think she can do this alone…. And I just thought… maybe she would be okay if I were with her. I know I’m only a duke, but I just want her to be okay and I really think this would be good and it’ll only be for this one ball and…” Namjoon’s rambling came to an end when your father raised his hand. Namjoon clenched his fists as he waited for an answer.

Your father had taken his time to consider Namjoon’s proposal, enjoying the way the boy had squirmed under his gaze. To this day, Namjoon refers to it as the second most terrifying day of his life. Eventually a smile had broken over the kings face, no longer able to contain his laugh. He clapped Namjoon on the shoulder and sent him off with his blessing.

On his way to meet you in the gardens afterwards, he had gathered the prettiest daisies he could find. He found you lying on the floor of the bandstand, looking a little too pale as you stared up at the clouds floating past. He cleared his throat on arrival, making you look at him with the offer of a weak smile, not really taking him in.

When he didn’t take his place beside you, you’d sat up to look at him properly. That’s when you saw the pinstripe suit and quaffed hair. It looked so unlike him you couldn’t help but giggle. Normally Joon was a t-shirt and basketball shorts kind of guy. He had rolled his eyes and extended his hand to help you up. You took it, every question in your mind had gotten stuck in your throat when his eyes had met yours. You never did get over that silly little crush. He didn’t release your hand like you expected him too. Instead he placed the bouquet into your free hand and asked you the question you’d been dreaming he would.

“Just to protect you of course… I don’t like when you aren’t well” He’d broken the moment by ruffling your hair, a sure sign he was doing this as a favour.

He took you to every ball you attended after that one.

…

The summer you turned seventeen was the summer before Namjoon left for university. You snuck out passed your guards in the night to see him. There was a very convenient secret passageway that led from your room to the gardens. You would meet him at the bandstand and talk until the sun came over the horizon. The lack of sleep had been worth it to spend those last fleeting days with him. You talked about anything and nothing, just like you would in the daytime, but this felt far more intimate.

The first time you convinced him to meet you after curfew his eyes flitted everywhere. Always nervous someone would find the two of you there and assume the worst. You on the other hand were just desperate to soak up as much of your friends company as you could before he left.

Over time he’d become more comfortable with the routine. In fact he had been certain that your sneaking around hadn’t even been that sneaky, your parents were just allowing you to rebel like this. Eventually he got used to walking you back to the entrance of the secret passageway, spending an extra few moments together.

His final night in town had been an emotional one. You’d sat side by side, your head on his shoulder staring up at the stars in complete silence for a long time. A tear fell down your cheek every time you thought about him leaving you. He’d wrapped an arm around you and pulled you close just as a shooting star arched across the sky. You immediately had a wish in mind. Eyes scrunched tight and fists clenched, you wished as hard as you could that he would stay, or at least that he’d come back fast. But unfortunately, he had to go, and morning came around far too fast.

You’d dragged your feet as he walked you back to the passageway. Shoulders bumping together, fingers brushing, glances stolen when you were sure the other wasn’t looking. The wall that concealed your entrance had come into view far too quickly. You’d sighed as you reluctantly pressed in the stones that would open the doorway, far from ready to say goodbye to the boy you’d grown up with. You hugged him goodbye, tears streaming freely down your face. You’d released him and turned to walk back into the castle, but as you’d taken that first step, he grabbed you sharply by the wrist and pulled you back to him.

His lips were so soft as they met yours. The surprise had knocked all the air out of your lungs forcing you to pull back sooner than you would’ve liked. He wiped the tears from your face and pulled you back to him, kissing you once more. And then he was gone.

…

The following autumn had dragged by. With no Namjoon, you had been forced to invest in the idle gossip of other members of the court, actually pay attention in your elocution lessons, and, perhaps worst of all, prepare for your first ball without your trusty escort. Every time you thought of Namjoon your lips tingled at the memory of your first kiss. You were devastated when his parents had told you he wouldn’t be able to make it home for the Christmas ball.

When the time came, you’d prepared for the ball like you had every other. A team came to pinch, primp, and style you to within an inch of yourself. This year they’d decided on a snow theme. Your pale blue ballgown had been the most beautiful one you’d worn at that point. It glittered like freshly fallen snow in the winter sun. The skirt poofed out around your waist and fell just above your feet so people could still see the matching shoes with little snowflakes. It was the best you thought you’d ever looked, and it broke your heart to know Namjoon wasn’t going to see you like that.

When the time came, you’d taken a breath and readied yourself for a night of refusing advances of handsy nobles, and questions you weren’t prepared to answer about the whereabouts of your usual date. You took a hold of the banister and began your entrance into the grand ballroom, desperately trying to keep your eyes forward and not trip at the same time. Whilst concentrating on not falling flat on your face, you had failed to notice one crucial detail about the room before you, until he took your hand and brought it to his lips. Namjoon had made it home after all.

You spent the entire event together. For every slow dance you were in the middle of the floor swaying together as he whispered sweet things in your ear. Time not on the dance floor had been spent laughing and catching up. The night came to an end with you escaping to your spot.

He’d picked a daisy and threaded it into your hair, trailing his fingers down the side of your face when he was finished. You’d boldly stepped even closer to him, lips inches away from his, daring him to repeat the night he left, and he’d gladly taken the opportunity. He’d pulled you impossibly closer, lifting you on to your tiptoes and kissed you like a man starved. You’d wrapped your arms around his waist. Desperately trying to make up for lost time. Eventually you came to rest, foreheads resting against one another, breathing hard.

“Y/N I love you.” It was the first time he admitted it out loud, but it certainly wouldn’t be the last. In fact he said it at least twenty more times that night.

“I love you too Joon.” You kissed him one more time before taking his hand and breaking into a sprint. You came to a stop at the passageway to your chambers. “Come in with me?” You’d asked, flashing him doe eyes he had never been able to resist.

“Are you sure?” He brushed a stray hair behind your ear and met your eyes, you’d never seen him look so serious.

“Well I can’t get out of this dress alone.” You’d tried to joke. When his expression didn’t change you gulped down any reservations and nodded. “I’m completely sure.” He’d swept you into his arms and carried you through your room laying you down on your bed. His coat and tie had been immediately discarded across the room. You’d sat up to get a better look as he undid the buttons on his white dress shirt, biting your lip at the thought of running your hands across his bare skin. He stopped undressing himself to look back at you.

“You’re so beautiful.” He embraced you, fingers finding the zipper at the back of your gown. You allowed the sleeves to fall down your arms, exposing your chest to him. Immediately his lips had gone to trail along your collarbones. He mumbled ‘I love you’ as he went. Each kiss punctuated by the words you’d longed to hear from him. You pushed his shirt down his shoulders, letting your hands linger on his biceps, rubbing little circles on the perfect skin.

“Joon?” he answers you with a hmm. “Is this real?” he pulled away from you to meet your eyes.

“I hope so.” He responded before kissing you deeply again. When you’d gotten the chance you’d stood up and allowed the dress to puddle around your feet. He reached out to pull you in again by your newly expose waist, positioning you underneath him. He’d kissed down your stomach until he reached the top of your underwear.

“Maybe we should stop here?” he’d said, pulling away from you, “I want our first time to be something amazing.” You’d nodded, a little reluctant, but you’d waited this long for him, you could wait a little longer. Instead you’d settled into your bed together, cuddled close in just your underwear, praying that you didn’t wake up from this dream.

…

Everything was perfect, you stayed together throughout both his and your university experience. The whole kingdom knew of their childhood sweethearts. The duke and the princess destined to be together. The night of your graduation, a large ball had been put together in your honour and while no one dared say it aloud, everyone was certain there were hidden intentions behind the congratulatory event. The feeling was in the air, the whole of the kingdom whispered rumours of how the young duke was going to propose. They wondered how it would be announced, if he was going to ask you in the middle of all the guest, or if he’d elect to be more private about it.

But then the day of the ball arrived and Namjoon wasn’t waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs like he usually would. You assumed he would be waiting somewhere to surprise you, but the whispers started as soon as you’d turned up to the ballroom unescorted. No one had seen him. The entire night people had congratulated you on graduating, but your heart wasn’t even your replies. Instead you’d spent the night searching every face in the room for a sign of your missing lover.

As the night wore on it became clear that he had no intentions of attending. You’d put every ounce of your princess training to good use that night as you tried not to cry, humiliated in front of everyone you had ever known.

Awaiting you in your bedroom at the end of the night was a bouquet of pink daisies and a simple note that said ‘I’m so sorry’

You wouldn’t see Namjoon again for two years…

Part 2

Masterlist

Losing Virginity drabble

Taglist: @uraveragefangirlsposts

#namjoon #rm #bts fic #bts fluff #bts angst #bts smut #namjoon fluff #namjoon smut #namjoon angst #rm fluff #rm smut #rm angst #kim namjoon #knj smut #knj fluff #knj angst #bts #bangtan #100

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